The Battle of the Girls
by The Wandering Phantom
Summary: 26 years after Katniss Everdeen is killed in the bloodbath at the 74th Hunger Games, it's time for the fourth Quarter Quell, and President Snow dies laughing. There's a plethora of estrogen and a hint of something sneaky as the President Birdsall tries to establish her dominance with the Hundredth Hunger Games. Over 1/3 of the way through Reapings.
1. The Death of President Snow

The boy holding the box peered at the President in a concerned way as his hands brushed the lid. He had to stifle an undignified giggle. The 100th Hunger Games. Who would have thought he would have lived this long? Certainly not he. He stared at his hands, bony and liver-spotted, and attempted to stop them from shaking.

The boy was perhaps five, and he cleared his throat. "Umm, you need to open up the box, sir, and pull out an envelope." People were always saying stupid things like that nowadays. Like the Alzheimer's would affect his mind, which was still sharper than most people's after all these years. Like he wouldn't keel over before he forgot anything important.

Instead of saying all this, he leaned over in his wheelchair until he could see his reflection in the box. He looked almost more ancient than the wood he was seeing himself in. He wasn't.

The boy, (who he thought was probably one of his grandsons or great-grandsons, he couldn't remember) cleared his throat again, and rattled the box. So the President quickly and without drama opened the box, took out an envelope, and read the sheet of paper inside.

Then he laughed. He could hear the rattle in his voice, feel the shaking in his chest. And the last action of President Alexander Snow was to let out a hearty, "HA!"

The boy picked up the envelope his great-grandfather had now dropped to the ground. He read it aloud for the cameras.

"For the 100th Hunger Games, all tributes shall be female."

* * *

 **Hello ladies, gentlemen. I hope you enjoyed that snippet of story! I am the most magical Wandering Phantom, also known as Phannie, and for my next trick, an SYOT!**

 **Remember, all tributes are female. Let's try and get some non-white, non-heterosexual, and non-cis girls in there, too.**

 **You can also make a mentor or stylist. Their forms are beneath the tribute form. You can submit via review, or PM. I don't care.**

 **Remember that the more detail you add, the better I can write your tribute, as well as the bigger the chance she will be one of the main characters. (As opposed to killed in the bloodbath.)**

 **Also, this is not first-come first serve. If you submit a Mary Sue tribute to take up one of the slots in, say, District 12, and later someone else sends in a well-rounded, interesting tribute to District 12, that second tribute will take your tribute's place. Keep this in mind while working on your tribute.**

 **And finally (I'M SORRY FOR ALL THIS I JUST WANT TO GET SOME THINGS CLEAR) please remove all the things I wrote in parentheses, BEFORE you submit your tribute. Thanks! :)**

* * *

 **~TRIBUTE FORM~**

 **Name:**

 **Age:**

 **Preferred District: (You might not get the district you want, because of PLOT REASONS. But don't worry, you'll probably be good.)**

 **Sexual Orientation:**

 **Token:**

 **Meaning Behind Token:**

 **Personality: (Because of the nature of the thing, I know there will be a lot of Mary-Sues. Let's attempt to rectify this by saying that for every VIRTUE your girl has, she must have a FLAW.)**

 **Appearance: (Height, build, skin color, eye color, hair color and style, are necessary, anything else is optional but always helpful.)**

 **Family and Friends: (People I can use in the interviewing of the Final 8. Basic personalities and appearances are necessary, anything else is optional but helpful.)**

 **Reaction to Reaping:**

 **Volunteered/Reaped:**

 **Strengths:**

 **Weaknesses: (You have to have the same amount of strengths and weaknesses, and let's please be reasonable. No superpowers.)**

 **Skills:**

 **Alliances?:**

 **Romances?:**

 **Reaping clothes:**

 **Anything I missed?:**

 **BONUS QUESTIONS! Answer these and you get a cookie!**

 **Favorite color:**

 **Deepest secret:**

 **Least favorite human being, and why: (Don't just say President Snow. Get creative)**

 **YOUR ideas for the arena?:**

 **Catchphrase:**

 **~MENTOR FORM~**

 **Name:**

 **Age:**

 **Gender:**

 **Personality: (Yeah, mentors and stylists can be as one-dimensional as you like. They don't appear often, soo... ~3 )**

 **Appearance:**

 **District:**

 **What Games did they win?**

 **Anything I missed?:**

 **BONUS QUESTIONS for this form are the same as the ones for the tribute form.**

 **~STYLIST FORM~**

 **Name:**

 **Age:**

 **Gender:**

 **Personality in one sentence:**

 **Appearance:**

 **District:**

 **What is their style as a stylist?: (By which I mean, how do they dress their tributes? Drag-queen over-the-top, or simple and understated? Neon colors or neutral ones? Conforming to Capitol styles, District styles, or neither?)**

 **Anything I missed?:**

 **BONUS QUESTIONS for this form are the same as the ones for the tribute form, but also:**

 **Chariot outfit ideas for their girls?:**

 **Interview outfit ideas for their girls?:**

* * *

 **Thank you for taking the time to participate. Buh-bye! ;)**


	2. Delays

**A/N: Hello hello hello, dearest darlings! Phannie's back! This story has a much bigger overall plot than I let on in the last chapter, I'm afraid. And this chapter is all about that plot.**

 **While you're still here, I'd like to say that three tributes have already been submitted to Districts 2, 7, and 11, and I must say they're all quite fantastic! I've also had a stylist and mentor both submitted to 11, who will be quite fun to write with. Thank you to everyone who's submitted so far, and to those of you who haven't... PLEASE DO! xD**

 **There are still some things I'd rather like to clear up about this whole thing, but I'll stick that in the author's note at the bottom. I want you all nice and intrigued with this story by the time you read all that. PLEASE DO READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM, though. It's quite important.**

 **Well, I should let you get to your story.**

It was taking too long.

Jeanette had been suspecting this for several months. It had started as a niggling worry in the back of her mind, annoying and persistent. She had ignored it then. But since then, it had grown in size and prominence until it was now like it had taken over the whole of her mind.

The arena was normally done by now or in a few days from now. To be sure, there were exceptions. The arena of the 65th Games, for example, which was often cited as a total failure, had taken only a month. The arena of the 75th ten years later had not been completely finished until after the reapings due to bugs in the monkey's and jabberjay's programming. But the 75th had been given extra time only because it was a very special Games, along with being a Quarter Quell. The Games that fully crushed the rebellion _deserved_ to have extra preparation time, after all.

Officially, the arena was supposed to be done before the reapings. The arena was _projected_ to be finished just before the opening ceremonies. But Jeanette had been overseeing the placement of the bear mutts (which had given them some trouble), of various traps, and the timing on the volcano. Each of those projects separately might have been finished by the ceremonies if she put her whole team on it. But together, they would not be completed by the time the Games begun.

Jeanette leaned over the large sketch on the table. It was supposed to be a new timer for the volcano. One of the younger workers who had been raised in District 3 had brought it up. Many Peacekeepers who were originally from the Districts would be given labor jobs in the Capitol after they retired. Anyways, the timer was a very clever idea, but it was too complicated. They would have to do with the old timer.

One of the laborers burst into her office very suddenly, and Jeanette jumped.

"Mrs. Heavens-" the worker began, but Jeanette cut him off.

"Firstly, I'm unmarried, so it's Miss. Secondly, I'm your boss, not your friend, so it's Overseer," she corrected. She suddenly realized that she'd come off a lot harsher than she'd intended to, so she gave an apologetic smile.

"Overseer Heavens," the worker said. He blinked once. "President Snow is on the line."

"Didn't he die?" Jeanette said, fully aware of how blunt she sounded. Although she wasn't sure whether he really was dead. She hadn't been watching television. She'd been a tiny bit overworked.

The worker shook his head. "No. I mean, yes, President Alexander Snow died very tragically several weeks ago. His granddaughter Excellence Birdsall has taken over for him."

Jeanette nodded, but inside she was brimming with rage at this. What was this, a monarchy? They could have at least pretended to have a vote. That's what they used to do, anyways.

"I'll speak to her in a minute. Do you know what she wants to talk about?"

"She says that it's a government secret, Miss- I mean, Overseer," the worker said. "Um, phone's in the other room."

"You're dismissed," Jeanette said. The worker nodded gratefully and left.

Jeanette quickly cleaned up the papers spread over her desk and turned off the projector- meeting with the old President had tended to take a long time, and she suspected that his granddaughter would take after him.

The worker had picked up for her, and President Excellence Birdsall took up one entire wall of the phone room, looking bored.

"Your Majesty," Jeanette joked, complete with a little curtsey. President Birdsall smiled, but it was too cheerful- clearly forced.

"How's the arena going? Do you need more labor?" the President asked.

Jeanette _did_ , but she wasn't about to admit that to the President. "Fine," she said. "Is something wrong, Mrs. President? Any special requests?"

The President's forced smile grew wider. "No. I've just been calling all the Gamemakers to make sure their respective areas are all OK. My first year as President, and it's a Quarter Quell- well, I want to make sure this looks good."

"Of course, Mrs. President," Jeanette said. She started to wonder what this was about. "Is that it, then?"

The President nodded and reached out to flip a switch. Jeanette moved to hang up, but then she noticed President Birdsall hadn't hung up- just switched the transmission to an encrypted, high-security version.

"Mrs. President?" Jeanette said.

"Call me Birdsall. Honorifics waste time," the President said. "Do you know why this Quarter Quell asked for all females, Heavens?"

"I don't know much history, Mrs Presi- I mean, Birdsall," Jeanette said.

The President nodded. "The writers of the original Quarter Quell cards projected that due to differences in climate, air pressure, physicality, and food sources, there would be more of one gender in the Districts than the other in one hundred years. They decided to make the 100th Quarter Quell to kill off some of these extras. Their projections were correct up to this point, but sadly, they chose the wrong gender. Currently, the Districts are in dire need of females. We could encourage the next generation to have more children, but then we would have to feed them better, perhaps put them on welfare. We have been moving the poorest Capitol families with daughters out to the Districts, but this is making little to no difference."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Jeanette said.

"You were lying when you said you needed no more labor," the President said.

Jeanette shrugged. When caught in a lie, she never tried to deny it. "So?"

"How about we make a deal. If you make a certain addition onto the arena for me, I will move almost all of the other Gamemaker's labor forces to you. You will be able to finish your arena before the reapings, as well as the secret project I have contacted you about."

Jeanette pondered. She didn't even know yet what the secret project was, or how all that history had been relevant. But she needed the labor.

Besides, this was the President. She could hardly deny the woman who was arguably the most powerful person in the world.

"Of course, Birdsall," Jeanette said. The President nodded, her smile now genuine- and wicked-looking.

"Then let us begin, Heavens."

 **A/N: How delightfully intriguing. (This is a lie. No one died, so I find it rather boring.)**

 **Anyways, clearing things up: One, there will be no sponsoring in this story. Sorry, but I realized that would influence the story too much! Don't worry, you guys are still influencing it quite a bit. Two, you may submit UP TO FIVE girls!**

 **Three and perhaps most important, I didn't make this clear, but there will be TWO GIRLS reaped from every District. Sorry if that wasn't clear before!**

 **Que tenga un buen dia, darlings.**

 **-Phannie**


	3. And Now, A Shiny Word from our Sponsors

A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS

This story begins with a sunrise. You see? It is already a happy tale. It begins with a sunrise over the twelve shining Districts of a pretty, _sparkly_ place called Panem. It begins with a sunrise as these twelve shining Districts prepare for a death tournament that will kill 23 of their girls, and crown one a victor.

We do not want you to worry about this. Statistically speaking, you are probably not going to get killed in a death tournament.

You do not yet need to know the names of these 24 girls. You will get to know them soon. They are all such nice, pretty, _sparkly_ girls who happen to be sexy, mysterious, dangerous, bloodthirsty, clever, and good on camera. Of course they are. All girls are, don't you know?

This happy, sparkly tale is brought to you by the Capitol: Because Your Life Is Fabulous. We here at the Capitol want you to enjoy this sparkly story, but be vigilant as you read it. If you should find anything suspicious in the following pages, anything at all, please alert the proper authorities. It could be anything, a subversive phrase, a thought escaping from its repression, the very idea that the way you see the world is wrong in some way, that it brings harm to someone. The idea that the Districts do not deserve their punishment, that our girls and women are all different and deserve respect, that not all is what it seems, leaving you with nothing to grasp but words, leaving you feeling as though you have just woken up and can only remember the tattered edge of a dream.

Do you see what we mean?

But let's not worry. There is, after all, nothing to worry about.

As we said before, this story begins with a sunrise. A beautiful sunrise over the continent formerly known as North America. The sunrise goes unappreciated by the President, who is pulling on her suit, applying her makeup, looking nervously in the mirror. It goes unappreciated by the youngest of the Gamemakers, who is sweeping her hair out of her face, panicking, struggling to finish the arena even after the generous portion of laborers allocated to her by the President. It goes unappreciated by the Capitolites, who sleep in, snoring blissfully, unaware of their luxury. It goes unappreciated by the hired organizer who is struggling to keep his glasses on his face and his hair in place in the chaos surrounding the beginning of the Games, and it goes unappreciated by the colorful and bubbly escorts who are boarding trains to their respective Districts, and it goes unappreciated by most of our 24 girls.

These 24 girls may be wont to miss the beauty of the sunrise, or not; we do not know. We do know that none of them are asleep. Some of them have woken up early, others have not yet gotten to sleep. A few are busily cooking breakfast or getting dressed or otherwise preparing for the day, currently unbothered by thoughts of whether they will live or 'have their living options curtailed'. Thoughts they will be having often soon.

Really, stop looking so worried. Worrying is bad for your heart, you know.

The President steps out of her mansion and waves to the reporters, careful not to show the worry on her face. The young Gamemaker places a kiss on the photograph of her late and disgraced father and welds the final strut onto the arena. The Capitolites wander out of bed, wearing extravagant pajamas and eating fabulous foods as they turn on the television to watch the reapings. The hired organizer watches with a satisfied smile as everything falls into place. The last of the escorts, who once won the most prestigious of Capitol beauty pageants but now has been reduced to a life of obscurity just off-camera, arrives in District 12 and looks around, tut-tutting.

The 24 girls arrive at the reaping. Some are nervous, others inevitably excited. Soon enough they will enter an arena only one is meant to leave. But these are such _sparkly_ , can-do girls, with such big dreams. And what is a tradition of a hundred years, a nuclear arsenal that has kept a nation submissive for centuries, a bag of tricks as big as the Gamemakers' imagination can allow, against such unshakable dreams?

 **A/N: Heyy, guys. This is the last filler chapter! After this, I'd like to start the reapings. (I've only got 4 characters right this second, but, fingers crossed.) It's not actually as much filler as it seems, as there's quite a bit of important foreshadowing. ;)**

 **Just in case you forgot anything, or if you didn't but would like all the rules in one place, here's a quick recap:**

 **-There will be no sponsorship system. :( Sorry**

 **-You may submit up to five tributes, because I'm generous. ;) Forms are in the first chapter.**

 **-All tributes must be female.**

 **-You may also submit mentors and stylists. Forms are, again, in the first chapter.**

 **-Please remove parentheses before submitting the form.**

 **-Two girls are reaped from every District.**

 **And because I've had a couple people asking about it, the tribute list will also be in this chapter. I'll try to update this regularly. Pending in a spot means that either more than one character has been submitted to a spot, or just one character was submitted three days ago or less, and I'm waiting to see if anyone submits another character.**

 **DISTRICT ONE**

 **-Ruby Rose (submitted by skyeblue5565)**

 **-Victoria 'Tori' Astor (submitted by rubylicious)**

 **DISTRICT TWO**

 **-Rain Quench (submitted by rubylicious)**

 **-Aelia Degano (submitted by TWGnome)**

 **DISTRICT THREE**

 **-Gigabyte 'Gigi' Data (submitted by Mystical Pine Forest)**

 **-Thea Butler (submitted by CelticGames4)**

 **DISTRICT FOUR**

 **-Thalia Waters (submitted by trinityxslayer)**

 **-Braelynn Eichten (submitted by FlawlessCatastrophe)**

 **DISTRICT FIVE**

 **-Alice Rose (submitted by Malee Rose)**

 **-Lyanna Aslett (submitted by ChocolateChipHomicide)**

 **DISTRICT SIX**

 **-Acadia Marano (submitted by Flawless Catastrophe)**

 **-Lilac Sum (submitted by abbycoraby123)**

 **DISTRICT SEVEN**

 **-Lindie Bennet (submitted by We're All Okay)**

 **-Sabina Ash (submitted by skyeblue5565)**

 **DISTRICT EIGHT**

 **-Adeline Flores (submitted by TWGnome)**

 **-Apate Pendragon (submitted by Wolfie McCoy)**

 **DISTRICT NINE**

 **-Skye Miller (submitted by fangirlandotaku)**

 **-Melissa Spark (submitted by WiseGirl0801)**

 **DISTRICT TEN**

 **-Blair Alp (submitted by Andy the willow tree)**

 **-Penny Reens (submitted by abbycoraby123)**

 **DISTRICT ELEVEN**

 **-Soya Delon (submitted by SonoftheSun14)**

 **-Wisteria Evans (submitted by ChocolateChipHomicide)**

 **DISTRICT TWELVE**

 **-Raven Hastings (submitted by WiseGirl0801)**

 **-Maya Green (submitted by xGred-Forgex)**

 **I'd like to take a moment to thank all of you for dropping by this story. We're going to have a lot of fun!**


	4. D1: Ruby Rose

**A/N: Oh, I'm so terribly glad to have this story started! It's going to be a fun and _horrifying_ ride, I tell you~!**

 **Each of our girls will have a chapter all to herself for her reaping. Because honestly, some of them are going to die very fast, and yet I don't want to leave anyone feeling like they didn't really get to know their tribute. This particular chapter ended just over 3000 words, so that's how long I'll try to make every chapter, excluding the author's notes.**

 **This darling tribute was submitted by skyeblue5565. She reminds me of Regina George, really- but I probably don't mean that the way you think I do. ;) Also, to skyeblue5565: Apologies- I pretty much changed Jada in every way, but I felt that Ruby really needed a foil in this chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

 _Ruby Rose, 17, D1_

Downstairs I can hear my dad crashing around as he attempts to make some tea for the morning, and I can hear Marvel and Emerald slowly dissolving into a shouting match as they argue over whether we should watch the Channel 5 or Channel 3 pre-reaping commentary. I sigh and grab the lipstick my dad pawned from a Capitol worker a few months ago. It's bright red and one of my most prized possessions. From the moment I saw it it reminded me of my mother's amber eyes. Not to mention that it matches my skin tone _perfectly_!

I dab just a little of the lipstick on my mouth, as I'm trying to conserve resources. I still want to have some lipstick left when I get back. Then I grab my white-blond hair and pout at myself. There's some magical hair length where you can put it up in an elegant bun or a sleek ponytail, but my hair is way beyond that. I sigh and let it go.

"Ruby! What's taking you so long up there, sweet pea?" my dad yells. We may live in the Victor's Village, but the walls are still thin as paper and you can usually hear someone talking in another room, let alone yelling.

So I decide to return the favor. "I'll be down in just a minute, Daddy!" I shout at the top of my lungs. I smile at the girl in the mirror as I imagine him holding his ears and wincing when the shout reaches him.

The girl in the mirror smiles back. Her smile seems to say, _Good girl! You can do this!_ Like Dad says all the time. My wide grin falters.

What kind of person says "Good girl" to a person, anyways? Like I'm a dog. I'm not a dog.

I'm not a dog...

My elder brother, Marvel, flings the door open, stumbles across the room and flops onto the bed. He's Emerald's twin but taller and lankier. Poor Marvel doesn't seem to have inherited the elegance that ran in Mom's side of the family.

"Nice lipstick," Marvel says, even though he's been saying it every day I've worn it for the past three months. It's just one of those things. "What are you going to wear?"

I sit down next to him. "Oh, I don't know. It doesn't matter yet, anyways. The sun just rose." I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the sky, which is slowly but surely turning bright blue. "What's for breakfast?"

"I think we're just doing the 'every man for himself' thing. Or woman," Marvel says.

I bite my lip and stare out the window. "I kind of wish we would still sit down around the table and have a nice big family meal like we used to when Mom was alive," I say to him.

Marvel is the only person I can confess these sorts of things to in the family. I'm not sure why. Emerald is more of a stereotypical older brother: cocky, cool, and loves to tease me. Not exactly the sort of person you can confide in. And Dad... I don't know. I have video proof he was a kid once every time they show a rerun of his Games, but he's so strict and harsh all the time it seems like he wasn't. His whole life has revolved around making his kids victors: first Emerald and Marvel, who were never the first to volunteer, and now that they're past reaping age, me.

He's the only person who can make me stop feeling confident.

Marvel catches the expression on my face and puts two fingers under my chin. He lifts my head up. "I'll sit down and eat breakfast with you, Ruby. One last breakfast together before you go off to become our victor."

"It sounds so final, the way you put it," I say. I laugh. Marvel doesn't.

We make our way downstairs and together make some eggs and toast. Neither of us is good enough of cooks to make anything else. When we enter the dining room, Emerald is already in there and finishing up a cold slice of pizza. The TV is showing the Channel 5 commentary.

"Hey, bro, I thought we agreed on Channel 2," Marvel says.

Emerald shrugs. "That was before you went to go talk to Rubes." Marvel sighs and shakes his head, which is the most aggressive he ever gets. Only Emerald can get him like this. I guess it's a twin thing.

"That's not my name, _Emma_ ," I say sweetly. Emerald scowls and I laugh at him. Point one for Ruby Rose!

"Whatever. I have to talk to Brilliance anyways," Emerald says, name-dropping his girlfriend. He stands, hands in the pockets of his slacks, and stalks out of the room, full of swagger.

Breakfast with Marvel isn't quite what I wanted. It's quiet and neither one of us talks, and it's too short. I'd been thinking something more along the lines of my blurry and ill-defined memories of meals with Mom: loud, happy, and so much food you felt like you would explode at the end. But Marvel isn't Mom, something I guess I should have realized before this. I use the time to think about what I want to look like when I stand up on that stage, and suddenly the perfect dress pops into my mind.

As soon as I'm done with breakfast, I throw my plate in the sink and sprint upstairs to my bedroom. My closet is smaller than a lot of girls in the District, since the houses here are really old, but it's big enough. I dig through it, pulling out old gowns and sundresses and skirts that all looked great on me, until I find the one I'm looking for.

It's just a bit too tight and a bit too short and a bit too clingy. It's got sleeves halfway to my elbow and smooth fabric and it falls off my shoulders. It's emerald green, the exact color of my eyes. I pull it on and stand in front of the mirror, looking slightly over my shoulder and one hand on my hip like I practiced.

I look hella fabulous.

It doesn't take long to find some shoes and run downstairs. Dad is now jogging in place in front of the television, but when he sees me, he stops.

"Sweet pea, you're going to look great on TV," he says. I flash him a quick smile.

"Thanks, Daddy. Hey listen, I know you normally don't let me out of the house before I exercise and call Myra, but can I go see my friends? It is my special day," I say with a sweet look I've used a million times before.

Dad frowns. "I was hoping we could have an appointment with Myra today. As a refresher. You know, the only way a girl can win the Games is-"

"To look great while she kills, I know," I recite. I've heard this a billion times from both Dad and Myra, my personal beauty assistant. She teaches me things I'm going to need to know to look great in the Games and life- stuff like never wear mascara, brick red doesn't look good on you, and so on.

"But it's not like I'm going to learn anything new from Myra now. And I was really hoping to catch up with Jada before the Games," I say. I pause, then put on a pout.

This breaks him. He puts his hands on my shoulders. "Okay, sweet pea, but be at the reaping on time. Remember. In this house we're victors. If you want hugs and cuddles, go live with your grandparents."

Honestly, it's a miracle Marvel grew up so laid-back. I nod and run out the door before he can say much else.

I bike to my best friend, Jada's house, as fast as possible. She is a little bit of an outsider in the district; her skin is just a touch darker than most people's, and her hair is darker and straighter. Since she was little she's always played the flute. At school, she's popular for mainly two reasons: one, she hangs out with me, and two, she learned two years ago to play modern, Capitol-approved tunes on her flute, and since then she's been considered a bit of a rock star.

Less of the first reason, nowadays; her recitals have been eating up more and more of her time.

I run out back, where, as expected, she's humming along to a tune she made up and then jotting down the notes. Atop her head is a maroon beret. She's such a nerd sometimes, honestly.

"Hey, Jada!" I shout. She jumps, glances up, spots me, and smiles.

"Hey yourself, Ruby Rose," she says. This is how we've greeted each other for as long as I can remember. She looks around conspiratorially and says, "You wanna blow this pop stand? I could go for a sweet treat before the reapings."

We end up going to the bakery a few blocks from her house, which sells large cookies. I see me and Jada's friend Shine out of Jada's eyesight, but within earshot, and I see a chance for something fun. I grin wickedly, unable to stop myself.

"Are you sure you didn't want to bring Shine, too?" I say.

Jada shrugs. "No, she's kind of annoying sometimes, honestly. I just wanted it to be you and me. Hold on, I have to use the bathroom."

Shine waits until Jada has left, then marches over and sits in Jada's seat. As she plops down, her curly red hair bounces, almost mesmerizing. Her face is scrunched up angrily.

"Annoying? Who does she think she is?" Shine says.

I shrug, then lean across the table like I'm telling a secret. "I don't know! I kept asking her if we could bring you, but she super didn't want to. Don't you think she's kind of been a bitch lately?" I say.

"She's _such_ a bitch," Shine mutters. Her teeth are clenched. She's too poor to hire a beauty assistant, which is why she still makes such unattractive faces.

Jada comes out of the bathroom and sees Shine. She freezes. Shine runs up to her, and they start arguing.

Then they finally work out who did it. Together, they walk over and sit down at my table.

"Hey, guys, work things out?" I say.

Shine scowls at me. Jada looks me up and down. I swallow. They're not actually mad, right?

Then Jada smiles. "Great joke, Ruby," she says. I put on my winning smile, the one I'm going to flash at Caesar Flickerman and my sponsors and my allies to bend them to my will.

"Joke?" Shine demands. She sighs, and the anger draining out of her is visible. "Okay. A joke. Come on guys- let's go to the reapings."

At the reapings, Shine is separated from me and Jada after we sign in. She's only a few months younger than us, but that makes a difference; she's only sixteen and in the grade below us. Jada and I go into the seventeen group together, and manage to stay together. Normally that doesn't happen because everyone's being jostled around, but considering that it's apparently all girls this year, that means there's half the possible contestants, right? So there are less people? I don't know. I don't do math.

A woman with giant pink hair, and tiny pink top hat, a pink dress, and pink heels that are way too long to be graceful in, clicks past the mayor to the microphone. It's clear that she's attempted to cover her orange-dyed skin under white makeup, but it's starting to rub off around her hands and eyes. I stifle a giggle at her expense.

"Hey, ladies? How are my girls doing?" she calls cheerfully. "I'm Baby, and I'm here to help figure out which two of you are heading off to the Games!"

The mayor makes his typical speech- the reading of our history and the Treaty of Treason- and then Baby clacks to the microphone again. She's now holding a large glass ball with an opening at the top, full of slips of paper- the typical reaping ball. It's small enough to hold here because most District One people aren't poor enough to need tesserae. Unlike some other Districts- I've heard that in District Eleven they have to hold, like, pre-reapings just to keep the reaping ball from being bigger than a house. Though that's not saying much, since their houses are tiny there. Wait. I'm getting distracted.

"Okay, girls, time for the first name-!" Baby says. She reaches into the bowl.

"I, Ruby Rose, volunteer as tribute!" I shout, before she can even open the paper.

The girls around me, even including Jada, move away. Baby and the mayor stare. I smile my winning smile at a nearby camera.

"Come up here and say that into the microphone for sound, honey," Baby says.

I do, still smiling, careful only to show my good side and keep one hand on my hip like Myra taught me.

Baby smiles at me. "Our first tribute for the 100th Hunger Games!" she says. Even though I wasn't nervous, a wave of relief washes over me. Thank goodness... after all these years, I'm finally in the Games.

I don't hear Baby call out the other name, but when she does, before she can even begin reading the last name, a voice shrieks out from the crowd, high-pitched and panicked, "No! I volunteer!"

I roll my eyes. If there's one thing I've learned from years and years of watching the Games: that tone of voice means she's volunteering to save a friend or a family member. And if you volunteer to save a friend or family member, you universally never do well.

"Come on up here, honey," Baby says, and the girl does. She's pale and has short, spiky hair- then I jump. She has an alteration, like the people of the Capitol have- the tips of her hair are dyed maroon. Bizarre! And her outfit is not exactly fashion forward either- Seriously, honey? Red polka dots on your tights? And that silver bracelet doesn't match anything about your outfit.

"I'm Tori. Tori Astor," she says. She stands awkwardly on the stage, shifting from side to side.

Baby doesn't notice Tori's discomfort, and absolutely _beams._ "The tributes for District One, everybody!" she shouts into the microphone. Everyone in the audience applauds wildly, and she bounces over to us. "Shake hands, girls," she says.

I grab Tori's hand and shake firmly, the way Dad always does, and I grin into a nearby camera. It's not my best smile- but it's real. It's the realest smile I've smiled in years. I can feel my heart going, and the roaring of the crowd says to my ears, "You can do this, Ruby Rose!"

...Is this what being a victor feels like? I hope so.

Because this feeling is amazing.

-but too soon we are escorted to the Justice Building to say our goodbyes, and that elated feeling, that real smile, the beating of my heart, it's all gone. Shoot.

The first person to make it in is Jada, probably because for people claiming to be friends, they don't have any process to verify that- they just let you in. She runs in with a small smile and grabs my wrist.

"Oh my god," she says. "I'm so excited for you!"

I laugh. "No kidding! I'm excited for me too! So where's Shine?"

"Eh, I think she's still mad about that joke. Oh, hey-! I know, I'm going to write you, like, a power ballad about how you totally pwned everyone else in the Games without smudging your makeup," Jada says, and we both giggle mirthfully

We talk for a few more minutes- just the same kind of meaningless chatter we share every day- and then she squeezes my wrist.

"See you later, Ruby," she says. Suddenly I feel emotional. I want to say goodbye too, but then she just leaves.

I sit there for a moment listening to the sound of angry parental shouting coming from Tori's room and wishing for total silence. And then Marvel and Emerald come running in.

Marvel only makes it about halfway across the room when he manages to trip over his own feet, and me and Emerald both dash over to him. He gets up on his own. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he says.

I grin at the both of them and hug them in turn. Then I notice something missing. "Where's Dad?"

"He got held up in the verifications process," Marvel says.

"The Peacekeeper was a lady who'd loved his Games and kept fawning over him. He'll be in soon, Rubes," Emerald clarified. I was in such a good mood that I didn't even bother to correct him.

We stood there for a moment without speaking.

"Congratulations, anyways, Ruby," Emerald says, just as Marvel says, "God, you look so much like Mom..."

"Thank you," I say to both of them, but it feels like something heavy drops into my stomach at the mention of Mom.

Marvel digs through his pockets, and he pulls out The Ring. My breath hitches.

Mom gave me The Ring when I was ten, and I haven't touched it since, afraid of ruining it. I wasn't ready to wear it just yet, I'd insist to everyone who listened. It was beautiful, a simple silver ring embedded with a single, tiny ruby, but I never even removed it from its box.

"I think this should be your token," Marvel says, and then seeing my expression, quickly adds, "You could wear it on a necklace- or if you don't want it that's fine- or-"

"I want it," I say firmly. I snatch The Ring from his hand and put it on my finger. He blinks, surprised.

"I'll see you guys in a couple weeks," I say, and I hug both of them again.

"Bye, Rubes," Emerald says, and they leave the room.

Almost immediately after them, my father comes in.

He looks... disappointed?

"Hey, Daddy!" I say, and I run up and embrace him. He's stiff.

"I didn't expect you to volunteer, Ruby," he says.

What? What is that supposed to mean, anyways? I laugh nervously. "You know the only way to get into the Games in District One is to volunteer, Daddy-"

"I didn't _want_ you to volunteer," he corrects himself. "I humored you, but look at you. You can't win the Games. You're too small to fight or get volunteers, you're just not strong enough. You're... you're a girl, Ruby." His face is matter-of-fact.

I feel something shatter inside of me. "Get out."

"Ruby-?"

"I said, get out. GET OUT NOW-!" I scream, and for the first time, I see Dad frightened. He _runs_ out of the room.

I stare, seething, at the ugly tan walls and maroon carpet. I am Ruby Rose. I've been training my whole life. I _killed_ a man once. I can take down an arena filled with sniveling, cowardly _children._

 _I will prove you wrong._

 **A/N: Coming up next is Tori Astor! She's very different from Ruby here- all I'll tell you now is that she's more of an 'everyman,' though of course every good character has their own quirks, fears, and dreams.**

 **Please review! Your feedback means a lot to me. Also, if you have a character that you think would be good for District 3- or any District, really- PM me and I'll take a look at her!**

 **Que tenga un buen dia,**

 **-Phannie**


	5. D1: Victoria Astor

**A/N: Ahh, the smell of new chapters in the morning always wakes me up.**

 **Apologies for the long wait on this one. I had some writer's block, and Tori was surprisingly hard to write. I promise the next few chapters will come swiftly.**

 **Tori was submitted by the wonderful rubylicious. She's definitely the opposite of what I expected from a District One tribute but there are some interesting parallels in there. I don't think she's quite what she seems, and I'll really enjoy writing about her over the course of the Games.**

 _Victoria Astor, 16, D1_

I pull the pillow over my head, but I can still hear James throwing his fit in the hallway.

Moments ago, he'd stopped his pacing in front of my door and taken a deep breath. I had covered my ears to block the barrage that was coming, but I could still hear him shouting, "It's not fair!" Despite the fact that he's 18, he's acting like a real baby about the fact that only girls can enter the Games this year. Our baby brother Quentin acts more mature than him most of the time, and he's only 14.

After a few minutes of desperate ranting from James, I pull myself out of bed. I nearly fall over at the incredible strength this takes. I didn't get any sleep at all last night and now I'm going to doze through the Reapings.

But I still have enough strength to shut James up- I fling my door open and tackle him. To his credit, he manages to keep from falling over, and continues to hiss about how terrible this is while we fight.

Finally he pulls me off. "Aren't you supposed to be worrying over your clothes or putting on makeup or something?" he says.

I roll my eyes. "I can't believe that after living with me and Mom for your whole life you still think that's all that there is to being a girl," I say.

"I'm not the one who got an alteration," he says. Self-consciously, I touch the maroon tips of my brown hair. When I was fifteen, I'd saved up for months and _begged_ Mom and Dad to let me dye my hair maroon, certain that I would instantly transform into the most beautiful woman who ever lived once it had been altered. I was dumb then. More recently, I cut off as much hair as I could until my style matched James' in an attempt to get rid of the maroon, but the tips were still decidedly _non-brown._

"Whatever," I mutter, and James laughs and swaggers away. I rub my arm where I think he may have bruised me in the tussle.

"Toriiiiiiiii!" my mom brays from downstairs. I roll my eyes. Mom still thinks she's a teenager, and the only reason she didn't go off and die in the Games is because she met my dad first. She's not exactly an ideal mother.

"Yeah Mom," I say. I'm too tired to shout.

"I'm not going to be able to cook, so you guys are going out for breakfast, right? Okay." As she says this she appears at the bottom of the stairs. Mom is tall, blonde, and basically an older-looking clone of every other girl in District One, aka a regulation hottie. Sadly, neither me nor either of my brothers looks like her.

"Sure Mom," I say. "When did you say we were going out?"

"Oh in about ten minutes or so honey your pajamas look terrible on you. I'm taking you shopping for new ones this weekend," she says.

I purse my lips, but I know better than to argue with Mom. I just disappear back into my bedroom to find some suitable clothes for the Reaping.

My closet is really big, but there's not all that many dresses and stuff in it. There are a few towards the back that are saved for weddings, funerals, and Reapings. I plunge my hands into the section of dresses, grab the first thing I touch, and pull it back out. It's a red dress, maybe a little too small, comes to my knees. It'll do. I dig through a drawer until I find some wadded-up black tights with red polka dots and red shoes, and I pull it all on as fast as I can.

Then I grab the only thing that matters- my silver bracelet. I wear it every day. As I clip it on, I take a look at the tiny engraving on the inside. It reads, _Here's to our secret – Grandma_. I smile softly.

There comes a knock on my door. "Tori, you've got like five minutes," comes the wavering voice of my younger brother, Quentin. He looks a lot like James, except smaller and lankier. He opens the door and immediately frowns.

"That's too much red," he says.

"You're not exactly a fashion genius either. You look like somebody's grandpa," I say, gesturing to his clothes. He's got on a dark gray knitted sweater and neatly pressed black trousers.

"True though that may be, I do know about color theory and psychology," he says. "You need... hold on."

Quentin whips out a black hair ribbon I haven't used even since before I cut my hair, and ties it neatly around my waist. "There. That should offset the red of the dress and flatter your body shape more without drawing too much attention to it as opposed to your face." He steps back squinting and admires his work.

"It looks terrible, and I love it," I tell him with a friendly smile. He smiles back.

"Let's go get some food," he says.

We meet James downstairs and walk in amicable silence to the town square. It's actually quite far away from our neighborhood. District One is usually divided into two parts, each with its own factory, other job opportunities, schools, and families, and we happen to live in the part furthest from the Reapings.

Finally James says, "So are you gonna volunteer this year, Tori?"

I roll my eyes at him. This is such a big joke among my family. I train like almost every other kid in the District, but when push comes to shove, I really don't want to go into an arena full of 23 people who are all trying to kill me. And here in District One, if you get reaped, someone's sure to volunteer for you, so as long as you never volunteer you're as safe as can be.

"Hey, looks like we're here. Wanna go to the bakery?" I ask.

Quentin frowns. "Let's not. It looks like that might be a bad choice." He points at the window and when I follow his gaze, it's easy to see what he's talking about. A redhead girl and a girl with dark, straight hair and a beret are dissolving into a shouting match not far inside the door.

"What, are you scared of a fight?" James asks, grabbing Quentin and messing up his hair.

"Y- _yes_ actually– Victoria help–" Quentin says. He struggles to get away from James, and I leap onto James' back and start shaking his shoulders back and forth.

"Run, Quentin!" I yell. I can feel myself grinning. Quentin breaks free of James and sprints across the square.

Okay, people are starting to stare. I let go of James and we walk over to Quentin.

In the end we pawn some soup from an old lady for a few of our old textbooks at the market, and start walking to the stage where the Reapings are held. They haven't started yet, but girls are beginning to mill around near there and you can plainly see the District escort bossing around a few handymen on where to put the mayor's podium.

"Did either of you guys catch where we were going to meet up after the Reaping?" I ask my brothers. Quentin shakes his head.

"I don't know where Mom and Dad are gonna be, but I was going to head over to the Justice Building to pick up my factory job application papers if you want to meet there," James says.

"Okay. See you two later," I say. I hug Quentin and hit James on the shoulder, and they walk away towards the spectator's area. My two brothers are the best.

When they're out of sight, I grab my arms and start spinning in circles to search for a familiar face. No one I'm friends with is here, and while I see a few kids from my school, I'm not exactly excited to talk to all of them...

Someone taps my shoulder and I spin on my heel to face them.

"Oliver!" I cry, relieved.

Oliver is just a little bit taller than me. He's got these amazing blue eyes and long eyelashes and curly brown hair- I always think, privately, that he should have been born a girl. He would have made an _incredibly cute_ girl.

"Hey, Tori, what's up? Nice dress, by the way," he says, taking a step back.

"Just waiting for you and Dahlia to show up. Where is Dahlia?" I ask him.

Oliver shrugs. "We were going to meet up by the fountain. Except she wasn't there."

"How long did you wait for, Oliver?" I ask, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. Oliver lets out a sort of single, choking, 'ha' and then goes silent.

I grab him by the wrist and lead the way to the fountain, then sit down on the edge.

"Were you planning on volunteering or something?" Oliver asks. I groan and he draws his hands a little closer to his body.

"Oh, it's nothing against you. Just that James asked that earlier and the repetition is beginning to get annoying," I tell him. He visibly relaxes a bit.

"To be fair you are dressed way more formally than usual. I mean, not that it doesn't look great- not that your regular clothes don't look great either. I mean," Oliver says. He looks at his hands helplessly.

"Quentin kind of butted in when I was trying to get dressed," I say.

"Ohh. Hey, uh, Tori? I've been kind of meaning to talk to you about something..." Oliver says. It takes effort not to giggle at him. He always looks nervous but now more than ever.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well I was wondering if maybe sometime this weekend... I don't know... maybe you'd like to..." he stutters. Ice shoots through my veins.

Crap. No. Oliver is such a sweet guy and a good friend, but there are a _number of reasons_ I'm not going to date him. Boyfriends aren't really my area, to begin with. I glance around desperately for a way out, but other than the sky being a bit gray (possibility of rain to drive us inside and end conversation?) I don't see anything.

Then my eyes catch on something over his shoulder, waving at as frantically.

" _Ohheylook_ it's Dahlia!" I say, relieved. Oliver bites his lip, looking disappointed, and I feel bad for him. Really, I do. But I don't want to explain all the reasons why I'm not going to date him.

I run over to Dahlia, Oliver lagging behind me. She's wearing a dress, too, but she's got a big brown coat and a long scarf on over it, and a hat over her long, wavy black hair. "Hey, Tori! It's gonna rain," she informs me. I smile widely at her, and when she smiles back my insides feel warm.

I kind of have a giant crush on her.

Still, I'm never one to let a crush inform a friendship, so I reply, "Looks like you prepared. Were you planning on making a boat out of your coat?"

"The scarf could be the paddle," Oliver supplies helpfully.

Dahlia rolls her pretty, dark eyes. "You guys are so crazy. Anyways, I ran over to tell you two idiots the Reaping is starting in, like, five minutes. Tori needs to sign in."

Oliver makes a face. "Guess I'll see you two after the Reaping, huh?"

"See you later, Oliver," I say, waving at him. Dahlia grabs my hand and leads me towards the nearest Peacekeeper to sign in, and I feel shivers run down my spine.

The Peacekeeper quickly herds us into the 16 section. We stand on the outskirts of the group, Dahlia still holding my hand. Finally the mayor begins his speech, but I'm not really paying attention. I mean, I'm trying to, but when your crush is holding your hand it can be hard to focus on anything else. I shiver involuntarily.

"What's wrong?" Dahlia whispers, just quiet enough that the nearby Peacekeepers will ignore it.

"Just nervous about the Reaping," I lie. She squeezes my hand and I shiver again.

When the mayor's finally done reading the list of former victors, I manage to turn my attention to the Reapings. The escort, Baby, cries, "Okay, girls, time for the first name~!"

"I, Ruby Rose, volunteer as tribute!" comes a strong, clear voice over the crowd. I blink. People normally don't volunteer until the escort starts to read the name. A girl from the 17 section pushes her way through the crowd and up the stage. She's exactly like every other girl that wants to volunteer. Blonde, hot, risque in her dress choice and just muscled enough to be strong, but not enough to be unattractive. If she weren't up on stage she'd blend into the crowd.

"Our first tribute for the 100th Games!" Baby shouts with a giant smile. She totters back over to the reaping ball and reaches in once more for a name, then goes back to the microphone.

"Our second tribute is... Dahlia-"

No.

Nonono. It can't be.

"No! I volunteer!" I hear my own voice before my brain catches up with what I'm doing. I sound high-pitched, panicked, and I'm pretty sure that my voice managed to crack somewhere in there.

I must be freaking insane.

"Come on up here, honey," Baby says, and I swallow the hard lump in my throat and obey. My brief insanity gone, I'm feeling sick. The other girl, Ruby Rose, is studying me with her eyes narrowed. Crap. Am I a Career, then? Could I even stand to be one? Will I even make it a day?

"I'm... I'm Tori. Tori Astor," I say as clear as I can. I shift my weight once or twice in an attempt to make myself stop feeling so sick.

"The tributes for District One, everybody!" Baby brays. She sounds just like my mom. "Shake hands, girls."

I don't think I can move without getting sick, but luckily for me, Ruby grabs my hand and shakes my whole arm, smiling enthusiastically into a camera. She doesn't even bother to make eye contact.

I feel terrible.

And god... what's my family going to think? Heck, what are Oliver and Dahlia going to think?

Before I can sort anything out, Peacekeepers grab us and escort us as fast as possible to the Justice building.

The first ones in are Mom and Dad. They must have been waiting at the Justice Building and verified themselves as my parents as soon as they saw me volunteer.

"Why didn't you tell us you were going to volunteer?!" Mom screams as soon as she walks in.

"Laylah- please. Why did you volunteer this year if you were going to volunteer, Tori? You're not strong enough yet. Anyone with a good head on their shoulders doesn't volunteer until they're seventeen or eighteen!" Dad yells.

My parents. Angry for all the wrong reasons, all the time.

I endure the shouting the best way I know how- nodding along and staring disinterestedly off into space. Finally Mom says, "Do you have any explanation for this?"

I'm not sure I do.

"I'm sorry. I messed up," I say, and that's the truest answer I have.

Dad sighs slowly. He places one of his hands on my shoulder. "It's okay sweetie. Hey, we're all going to be rooting for you, right? It's okay."

"Thanks, Dad," I say. I smile at my parents. "I guess I'll see you two after the Games, huh?"

"Oh, fine, you'd better do wonderful, Tori!" Mom says. She grabs my cheeks and plants a big kiss on my nose, then she and Dad leave.

Next, Dahlia and Oliver come in. They don't look as angry as my parents, just confused. We were never the sort of kids to volunteer, no wonder they're looking at me like that.

"I'm so sorry I just heard Dahlia's name and panicked I understand if you're mad at me I would be too, please forgive me though." All of my thoughts come spilling out of my mouth without my permission. At least it's better than barfing. The urge to be sick on the carpet is slowly rising.

"Tori, why..." Oliver says, but words appears to have failed him. After attempting once or twice more to begin a sentence, he gives up and slowly shakes his head back and forth.

"Sorry," I say again.

"I guess it's really nice that you volunteered for me," Dahlia says, and she throws her arms around her shoulders to hug me. I enjoy it while it lasts, because in a second she's going to start yelling. "But you know how it works in District One! Someone else would have volunteered for me!"

Crap, she's right. I groan. "I'm such a moron. I must have just got caught up in the moment... I really didn't want to lose you to the Games, Dahlia," I say. I can feel my shoulders drooping.

Dahlia's beautiful, beautiful eyes, and Oliver's wet blue ones, study me. I can see forgiveness in there.

If I'm ever going to come out to these two, now is the time...

But I let the moment pass.

"Of course we forgive you, Tori. You're our friend," Oliver says. I grin at him.

"Friends forever?" I offer.

"Duh," Dahlia says, and then she pulls Oliver and me into a group hug.

After a long, emotional moment, Oliver and Dahlia bid me goodbye and walk out the door. I stand perfectly still, not wanting to destroy the moment, listening to complete silence for a second. Then the lights flicker, the door closes, Ruby Rose starts screaming at one of her visitors, and the moment is gone.

James and Quentin run in.

"Guys!" I shout, quickly wiping away the tears. They run up to me and hug me for all they're worth. Then I step back and get a good look at their faces. "What's up?"

"We know you're going to be mad, so we preemptively apologize," James begins guiltily.

"We-we checked a-a-all of our p-pockets and l-looked all over the s-s-square but we couldn't-couldn't find it. I-I know you said y-you wanted the br-bracelet but it- it vanished," Quentin says. There's a bead of sweat on his forehead and he's shaking like a leaf.

"It's around my wrist, knuckleheads," I say, holding up my arm and pointing to it. Quentin has to sit down on the couch. James isn't as obvious with his relief but it's still there, still visible, and suddenly inside I feel such a surge of love for these two idiots that it almost knocks me off my feet how powerful it is. Even when we got in fights or Mom and Dad were being crazy we were a family. They're awful, and I love them.

"You guys are the best," I say, and I hug them again. There's not a lot else to say, so Quentin and I watch James struggle not to cry, and we all squeeze each other's hands one last time, and they leave.

As I sit and wait for them to take me to the train, it comes over me again. That might have been my last meeting with my friends and family... my last chance to come out to them.

I'm not brave enough yet.

...maybe when I return from the Games, I will be.

 **A/N: Coming up next is the first District 2 tribute. Rain Quench! District 2 is a very different place than District 1, and Rain is a very different character than either Ruby or Tori... heheheh...**

 **Reviews are always appreciated! And if you have a tribute you think is good for District 3- or any District at all- do not hesitate to review or PM her in.**

 **Que tenga un buen dia,**

 **-Phannie**


	6. D2: Rain Quench

**A/N: School has started, I'm back in my groove, and it's time for the _fun_ to begin~!**

 **I think this chapter is a little shorter than the others, because I messed with the formula a bit. I really don't want to fall into a rut with this story. It's meant to be an exercise in persistence and characterization, not formula fiction.**

 **Rain turned out less mean and more introspective then I intended, but I feel like it matched her apparent theme color (gray) and her story more than the original version. Sorry but thanks to her creator, the amazing rubylicious!**

 _Rain Quench, 16, D2_

I have been up for hours when the sun rises. My ugly blond District Two hair is in a pretending-to-be-fancy knot instead of its usual dutch braid. I have changed into gray sweats from my Reaping clothes, which were a gray dress, gray flats, a gray bracelet with a gray rose charm for the name of my gray-faced cousin who died in a pile of gray volcano ash in a gray, grim Games and now lies under a gray rock with her name and age etched onto it. The world is endless gray.

I've been training since not very long after I awoke. It's my life, day in and day out. Head to the training center early, hack dummies to pieces, shoot a thousand and one paper birds and wall targets to keep myself sharp at archery, run laps around the edge of the gym, and meet my friends for coffee in the social part of the training center before most of them get their gym clothes on.

When I change back into my Reaping clothes, my friends have arrived, knowing my routine and waiting for me. I choose a large table and sit down. Immediately Avery and Omara sit down, but Isadora takes a few moments, running her finger under her Flirt of the Day before stalking towards me. Avery is very tall and is black, but Omara and Isadora look like typical District Two citizens- grayish blonde hair, fairly muscular, steel blue eyes. Once they have all three sat down, a parasite crowd of coolness-seekers begins to slowly but surely form around us.

I peel a banana and listen to Avery spill cheesy jokes out of her too-large mouth. "Why did the turtle cross the road?" she queries.

"Nobody knows, Avery," Omara says with a loud sigh. Avery rolls her eyes and laughs.

"Just for the shell of it," Avery answered herself. She threw her head back laughing like a little kid.

"Oh my god, could you please stop with the shitty jokes," Omara says, picking at a fingernail.

"Oh my god, could you please all stop with the weird stuff. Today's the reapings," I say. Immediately, conversation ends and focus is on my. I am the queen. However lucky Omara, Isadora, and Avery may be to be my friends, in the end they're loyal subjects just like everyone else.

"I'm trying to focus. I'm going to be practically the queen of Panem in a couple weeks," I announce.

"Queen bee," Avery says, mostly to herself, and cackles. I choose to ignore her.

"Oh, whatever. Keep talking and stuff. I don't care," I say, and return to methodically peeling the banana I will never eat, because it's basically a bizarre blend of unwanted calories and unneeded potassium.

The chatter continues for a few seconds about Avery's terrible jokes, then moves on to boys. "I dumped Cameron Wolf," Omara said. "I was only in it for if he won the Reapings and made a bazillion dollars, but he aged out this year, so." She shrugs. "Now I gotta find some strong man who'll volunteer next year."

"You're such a gold digger, girl!" Isadora laughs. The parasitic crowd around us laughs tinnily as well.

"You're a slut. You've got a new boyfriend once a week," Omara replies.

Isadora places one delicate, well-manicured hand over her heart. "Harshness."

"Well, we all know who my boyfriend is," Avery says, slinging one arm around the air and patting an imaginary chest affectionately. "That's right. Invisible Bob here and I have been dating for six years straight. What about you, Rain? Any special guys in your life?"

"The closest I have to a special guy is Lazarus," I say crisply, referring to my annoying twin brother. "You all know I don't like girl stuff. If you all are going to train, I suggest going now before the serious trainers punch out all the dummies. I have to go home and talk to my parents before the Reaping."

My friends bid me farewell as I turn to walk out the door and the parasitic crowd disperses.

I still have my gym shoes on, and I'm carrying my flats, one in each hand. I take the opportunity to jog down the foggy sidewalk. My calves burn in protest and every time a foot hits the ground my knees feel like they'll collapse, but getting better is all about pushing yourself, and I'll have to run more than this in the arena. I try to focus on my surroundings instead. Because of my dad's job, we get to visit District One a lot, and I vaguely remember a sunny beach and salty, green-tinted bread from a District Four trip when I was very small. But I prefer District Two, to be honest. The houses here are low, and the many hills make it so much more interesting. There are almost no trees but an abundance of bushes, the air is always fresh and always smells of rain, and each morning fog gathers in the lower parts of town.

There's a very old church down in one valley, from before Panem even, made of bricks and stained glass and painstakingly restored to its original status. In the fog it looks haunted, almost.

Our house is on top of a hill. Our house has a second floor. Our house has two trees imported into the front yard. Our house smells like freshly-mowed grass and motor oil. It's amazing how Capitol-like it is, for a house that belongs to a man that encourages his children to be normal.

I walk right in- I left only the screen door closed when I left. No one is moving around upstairs, which means Lazarus is already sitting on the couch flipping channels, and Mother and Father are probably arguing in the kitchen or basement. Which to avoid- parents, or brother? I decide Lazarus is less dangerous, for now, and walk into the living room.

He's watching Capitol cartoons. What a buffoon. He's certainly normal, just like Dad wants.

"Hello, brother," I say formally, sitting beside him. I kick off my trainers. "What exquisite and fine literature are you watching."

He sticks his tongue out at me and does not respond. Asshole.

I decide to ignore him and go upstairs. I quickly fix my tiny amount of makeup, put on pantyhose and return my flats to their rightful place, i.e on my feet. The I come back downstairs to grab a muffin and eat it. Luckily, Mom and Dad are arguing in the basement today, so the kitchen is free for me to grab more muffins than I should and also a glass of water. I go back to the living room for my Meal of Meals.

Lazarus has switched to watching the news, which is covering mostly the Hunger Games reapings being today, and the occasional celebrity marriage or minor political misstep.

"Today, our nation will finally, once and for all give girls an equal voice by giving them the only voice. Twenty four girls will enter the arena and no doubt become cultural icons as they fight for their lives," one anchor claims.

"What an idiot," Lazarus scoffs, and he switches the channel to an old guy. "That's not what equal means, tributes become 'cultural icons' every year, and I could do a better reporting job than her right now, in my pajamas with no training."

"I'm sure," I say, sarcasm dripping.

Eventually I decide to go downstairs to retrieve some bobby pins, because the hair knot isn't holding up. When I come all the way down the stairs, Mom and Dad have entered the 'cold shoulder' phase and now stand at opposite ends of the room, Mom brainstorming party ideas for her annual Hunger Games Premiere Party, Dad working on some architecture project that's been stumping him for weeks but that could potentially get us another District Four vacation if he finishes it. Walking between them is walking through a no-man's-land in the middle of a war. I stroll through and back and make it upstairs before Mom snipes at him again, luckily.

At 8:15 we all meet by the doorway, Mom and Dad pretending like they weren't arguing not long ago, and Lazarus pretending he did his homework instead of watching Rooney Rooster get zapped by lightning. I swear to God I'm the only smart one in the family, Dad included.

At 8:20 we all turn to the door to begin the walk to the town square. Mom tries to start a conversation, with me specifically for some reason. "What do you think we should serve at the Hunger Games Premiere, Rain? This year it'll be all about you, I think, since you'll be in the Games."

"Serve my body when they mail it home to you," I say dully. Mom doesn't react. She's too much of a ditz to really understand what I just said.

She laughs for one second too long, then gives up on our conversation. She turns to Lazarus. "What are you doing lately in school, Lazzie? Any projects?"

"We had a 500 word essay on the history of District Two last week. I got a B- which is better than all of my friends. This one girl wants to go out Friday cause I'm such a brain," Lazarus boasts. I walk slower in an attempt to get away from his mind-numbing self-centeredness. I end up next to Dad, which could be worse. Mom is kind of chasing Lazarus to get answers out of him, so soon we're alone and silent.

I want to talk like the whole family used to, way back when Mom and Dad were in love and Lazarus hid behind Mom's legs instead of talking and I probably believed in magic, or something. I remember the District Four trip he's working on getting us.

"So what's your big architect project about?" I say, actively starting a conversation for the first time in God-knows-when.

"Mmm. It's a new training center for District Ten. The Capitol thinks bringing the Career attitude there would benefit the economy a lot," he says.

I scowl. To be fair, District Ten has always made it far. They could be classic Careers, with amazing tans and a cowboy theme and being incredibly strong and dangerous from handling animals all the time. But Career teams are better when they're smaller.

At least he hasn't finished the training center. I won't have to deal with newbie Careers during my Games.

"And if you finish we could get a vacation?" I say.

He nods. For a second he seems a lot like me. Lonely in the family. Smarter than Mom or Lazarus. Trying his hardest to get us back to the ideal family we were back then, the ideal family we exemplified in District Four. Then the moment's gone. He's just Dad. Ignorant, self-centered, stubborn, cunning, rude Dad who fights with Mom and insults Lazarus and ignores me.

Good grief. Talk about a dysfunctional family.

Finally we arrive at the town square. My mother gives me a robotic hug and my dad pats my head twice exactly. Lazarus gives me a single thumbs up. We agree to meet at the market after the Reapings if I don't make it into the Games, and they stroll immediately into the spectator section as I get my thumb pricked by the Peacekeeper.

This is it. This should feel more special. It's my day, after all. The first step to ruling Panem. Instead it feels gray.

My face scans the crowd for a familiar face to rush over and give me an ego boost. My eyes catch upon strawberry-blond hair in two short pigtails, a round and innocent face, sly brown eyes and smirking lips. IT. IT is here. IT is standing between a girl with short hair and an athletic figure, and the tallest and darkest of Avery's sisters, and IT sees me.

IT is older than me. I can avoid IT. I edge around ITs section to the sixteen-year-old section. I do not meet ITs eyes.

I will ignore IT.

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief when the Reapings begin to distract me from IT.

First, a tiny- and I mean seriously tiny, she has to be just above the height required to be a midget or dwarf or whatever the 'respectful' term is- woman skips up to the podium. Her attire is entirely crimson, and her smile is thin and worn-out. "Hello, District Two!" she cries. "I'm Cherry. My job is to help figure out which two of you get to compete for your District in the Games!"

Cherry takes a few steps back for our mayor to take the podium. Our current mayor is a nervous, twitchy young guy who's part lanky and part lean. He was elected very hastily after the old mayor got taken away for questioning by Peacekeepers. He always looks like he's extremely close to upchucking every time he makes a speech, but he manages to hold it in as he rambles about the Dark Days and reads the long list of former victors.

Finally he's done and Cherry returns, standing on a small stool just to look reasonable. She hefts the Reaping Ball. It's bigger than the the really rich Districts' (ie Six and One's) because unlike them, there is a small smattering of poor people here.

"Time for the first name-!" she cries, reaching into the ball. She digs for a second, then pulls out a slip triumphantly.

 _Relax, Rain. It's your year to volunteer. Everybody knows that; no one will interrupt you._

"Madeleine Letterford," Cherry says. I open my mouth to shout.

"I, Aelia Degano, volunteer," says someone else calmly. Her voice is rumbling but not deep or masculine, and I am going to kill her.

Everyone watches her as she ascends up to the stage, and suddenly I realize that she's one of the girls IT was sandwiched between. Does she know IT? Does she know what IT knows? Her eyes sweep over the crowd in a menacing way, then very suddenly she stops and turns her head to stare into the distance.

Whatever. It's still my year. I'll just have to beat out the other girl chosen to volunteer. I stand rigid, waiting.

Cherry pulls out another slip.

"Rain Quench!"

 _Nonononono. Godammnit._

I walk towards the stage, hands clenched into fists. The crowd murmurs. They remember it's my year. They aren't sure if it's worth it to volunteer and remove me from my dreams.

I climb the stairs and turn to the crowd. They look uncertain. They are nearly all scared to volunteer. I say nearly because one girl, eighteen and rugged-looking, is nearly at the stage, her mouth open to volunteer. Her hand falls on the stage not two feet in front of me.

I take two steps forward and bring my heel down hard on one of her knuckles. I hear something crack and stand back. She moves away, now fearful.

Everyone is silent for a second, waiting for someone else to try the same trick.

The moment passes.

"Rain Quench and Aelia Degano, everyone. District Two's tributes this year," Cherry says behind me. I turn to Aelia for the customary handshake. I discover that her handshakes are firm and her hazel eyes are elsewhere. We go into the Justice Building.

My parents enter first. "We're proud of you," they say. They add that this will be such a good experience and Lazarus decided not to come. I wonder which one is better. Pretending to care because you feel bad about not doing so, or not even bothering to pretend? At least he spared me what would surely have been a short and extremely awkward conversation.

Avery comes in on her own. She hugs me and tells me a bunch of terrible jokes like she's trying to cheer me up or something.

"What do you think of that Aelia chick?" she asks.

"You really want to know?" I say. She nods. "I think she's a psycho, and no real competition. She gets to the training center even earlier than me, but she doesn't have any friends and she never talks to anyone. And she's strong, but doesn't talk all that much- clearly not bright. She'll be useful until the Careers break up."

"You're a classic Career. There is literally no way you will not win this," Avery says appreciatively. I smile thinly, unsure what she means.

Finally Avery leaves and Omara and Isadora come in together, along with one or two from the parasite crowd. They babble incessantly about nothing until their time is up. Omara and Isadora shoot me a bit of a dirty look as they leave.

Suddenly I wonder if they weren't part of the parasitic crowd, too. Maybe they only stuck around me because I had all the friends. Now that I'm not here, they'll be the temporary queens for a couple of weeks, after all...

But now's really not the time. I'm going to leave for the Capitol soon.

I have to wait for that time when the Peacekeepers decide It's Time To Leave; until then I have to wait in this tiny, ugly room. My back is to the wall when the door opens again.

I turn, hoping to see a Peacekeeper or Cherry announcing our departure, but instead, I see IT.

Yarrow Kale.

She smirks. Her freckles bounce around her ugly face.

"Hello, Rain. You screwed up, didn't you?" she says.

Wonderful. Wonderful. I don't speak.

"Yeah... I thought we had a deal worked out. You know, I don't tell anyone, you do whatever I want. It's simple enough to understand, right honey?" she coos.

"Yes." My words are sharp. I spit them out.

"I know, honey. So why didn't you do what I wanted? I never said you could volunteer. In fact, I seem to specifically remember telling you not to," Yarrow says. She puts one finger on her chin and frowns, pretending to think. "Yes, yes that is exactly what I remember."

And that's when I realize: I can do whatever the hell I want. I'm a tribute. I'm a Career.

"Frankly, princess, I don't give a damn," I say.

Yarrow scowls. "Rain. You killed a man. I tell and everything- your fancy friends, your family's reputation, _everything_ \- will all go away."

"Screw you. I'm a Career!" I crow. "If word gets out I killed a man no one will care. I'll seem like more of a badass. I'll get more sponsors. Hey, maybe I'll even get back from the Games quick enough to send _you_ to an early grave."

Yarrow backs up, face scrunching up. "You can't-" she starts.

I call for the Peacekeepers. She shuts up. She leaves.

Is this what freedom feels like? Badassery? _Victory_?

...No.

But it's sure as hell a start.

 **A/N: Up next is Aelia Degano! She's quite complicated but not at all what she seems on the outside. I must say, she's one of the tributes I couldn't WAIT to get to~**

 **Remember that there are still quite a few spots open! If you have a tribute you feel fits this story, do not hesitate to review or PM her in, please!**

 **Que tenga un buen dia,**

 **-Phannie**


	7. D2: Aelia Degano

**A/N: This chapter is also rather short, just because Aelia doesn't have any friends of any sort. Normally I find that a bit unrealistic in a character (in fact, if you submit a character that 'has no friends' or 'likes everyone' I'm pretty likely to just make up a friend in the name of realism) but it fits Aelia perfectly.**

 **Just so ya know, I'm not actually here- I got a friend to post this for me. I'm actually on a weekend trip to my cousin-one-removed's wedding. So if you send in any PMs or reviews, don't expect any replies until Monday!**

 **Hey, remember that ridiculously long wait you guys had for Ruby's chapter? Well, unless someone submits a character for District 4, and soon, that wait** _ **will**_ **happen again in just two weeks. I'm really not willing to skip to a District that is already full, so get working on those characters, guys!**

 **Okay. Here's Aelia Degano. She's, as I said before, a very complicated character. Also, in my head her mother sounds like Linda from Bob's Burgers. Aelia belongs to the amazing TWGnome!**

 _Aelia Degano, 17, D2_

When I was younger, (immature and full of hormones and excited and somehow believing that despite the fact that I was still in middle school, I had already hit the peak of my life,) I would clamber to the roof every morning before training, find my balance, and watch the sun rise. In Two, where everything is gray, where fog rolls in daily and most people reluctantly use the term 'sky-gray' to replace the neglected 'sky-blue,' the sight of the sun coming over the hills and lighting up the clouds in pinks and oranges for ten minutes a day was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

…

I'm more mature than that now. Now, I just pull a comb through my choppy blond hair. Now, I just smush chapstick onto my lips. Now, I put on gym shorts and a hoodie and run downstairs for my morning jog.

…yesterday my father assessed my skills to see if he thought I was ready for the Games. He was up all night evaluating and going over his notes. I expect he'll tell me what he thinks this morning.

I walk into the kitchen to get some food for the morning and find him still sitting at the table, muttering to himself. I'm a little chagrined to find that he doesn't even acknowledge my presence. I feel a little bubble of self-doubt… what if he decides I'm not ready? I push it down. Whatever. I quickly eat an apple and walk out the door.

It's a half mile to the training center in this part of Two. It's not too long a jog. Some mornings I walk it for one reason or another, but today I jog and don't look back at the house even once.

As usual, I get there just as the attendants unlock the doors. They don't question me- I'm always here this early. It's better and easier to train when the place isn't clogged by people. I walk right in and past the table-filled social area into the gym.

According to my father, it's specifically designed to look exactly like the gym the official training for the Games will occur. I consider. I could work with the weights and get in a little strength training before the Games, or refresh on hand-to-hand combat. It only takes me a few seconds to stroll towards the weapons rack.

I slash up one or two dummies, but that's too easy. Silently, I beckon over one of the attendants. He works with me on nearly everything I do, but I never speak to him. I've heard him talking about me- he's half-convinced I'm mute. Fine with me. That way he never tries to talk to me.

He already knows the drill. He grabs a weapon and puts on an armorgel shirt. The first few times he tried to go easy on me, using only fencing techniques and rarely actually moving to attack me, but I fight hard, and he had to struggle just to defend himself. Now it's basically an actual fight, except we both know the signal to back off and stop.

Without warning, he launches at me, a low dive at my legs. I leap out of the way and spin on one foot to knock him down, but he struggles out from under me as I attack, and grabs me by the shoulders, driving me backwards.

On and on it goes. The other attendants don't even look up, our fight is so routine. The blond, braid-clad stocky girl who is here every morning is used to it as well; she continues shooting bullseyes without even blinking. Only a young boy, who looks around fourteen and probably won't volunteer for several years, is distracted by us. He keeps looking like he wants to come over and help me, but I believe the look on my face is warding him off.

Finally the attendant starts to wear down, and I can feel my own body getting tired as well. I help the attendant up and he pulls off the armorgel shirt; then he walks off and doesn't look back.

Funny to think he's the closest thing I have to a friend.

I pull off my own armorgel shirt (armorgel may be incredibly strong and good for defense, but it's also very hot and it doesn't breathe) and replace it with a cooldown shirt I keep in my gym locker. I do a few stretches on the wrestling mat, grab my armorgel shirt again, and go to leave.

It's not too long a jog back to the house, but several minutes are added when I have to fight through the crowd that gathered to meet the stocky blond girl when she finishes training. She must be such a ditz…

When I walk back in the door, I plan on going directly to meet my father, but my mother intercepts me before I can get to the kitchen.

"Aelia sweetheart!" she says. Normally my mother has incredibly sleek, impractically long blond hair, but every once in a while she'll pin it up and wear an expensive wig. Today, her hair is cyan and just barely reaches her chin.

"Yes, mother," I say patiently.

"Aww, why so serious sweetheart?" She puts two fingers under my chin and lifts it, and I sigh inwardly.

"What is it, mother?" I say.

"You gotta get your serious side from your daddy. I know it didn't come from me!" she says, and she giggles. I press my lips together, and she finally catches on to my impatience.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry to hold you up. I just wanted to see what you thought about my wig, I'm wearing it for the Reapings you know…" she says.

I sigh. "It's lovely mother. All your wigs are."

"...and I wanted to say good luck. My baby girl going to the Games…" she coos, wrapping me in a hug. I stay perfectly still. I'm going to the Games? Is she just guessing? Did Father tell her that he'd decided I was ready?

…I can't think like this. Absolute confidence is key. I can't doubt myself, even for a second. Keep thinking about this and I'll crumble.

I avoid a second hug from Mother and walk into the kitchen. Father is still at the table, looking at me expectantly. I don't meet his eyes just for a moment, instead scanning the kitchen. Mother and Father ate breakfast without me, as usual; they know I eat before I go train. Quintus, skinny and scrawny and just barely ten, has pulled on semiformal Reaping clothes and is burning scrambled eggs for himself. He's largely ignored by our parents; he was an accident. I was supposed to be an only child.

As usual, I forcefully ignore Quintus, and sit down across from Father.

Father is tall, taller than me or anyone else I've ever met. He looks kindly, like he would be a religious leader of some sort. He has brown hair and small round blue eyes that belong on a fluffy dog. He's grown out the clean-shaven face I knew when I was just a child, to a full beard. When he had no beard, his employees used to come to him to get advice; now they come to confess their sins.

…

I really, really want him to let me volunteer for the games. I twitch and I feel the iron fist of guilt clamp around my heart and I plaster a forced smile on my face, but no matter how guilty I am it's still true. And that just makes me feel even worse.

I take a deep breath.

"Aelia. You're seventeen. You've matured a lot. You've trained your whole life. You're ready. You're ready to become a real person, a woman, and you're ready to go into the Games," my father says. My heart stops. I suck in air and feel my eyes water. Almost as an afterthought, Father puts a hand on my shoulder, and I melt into his reassuring touch.

Finally. _Yes._

"Now, you're not yet totally mature, you're not yet a real person, and you're not yet a victor. But Aelia… you're well on your way. You've become a fine, Capitol-loyal citizen, capable of being independent," he says in his deep, rumbling voice and oh my goodness, this is real. This is real.

He gets up and leaves the room almost as though he doesn't understand the intense joy and emotion that has just come over me. It's so rare that I feel much of anything other than loyalty towards my father and total apathy, and this is such a big moment in my life, and… my goodness…

I calm myself as quickly as I can, and as I do Quintus sits down across from me, where Father was not long ago.

Quintus always feeds himself. In fact, he doesn't ever speak to anyone in the family, probably because he learned long ago that if he does we will ignore him. He has never been inside a training center in his life, partially because he's not the type of kid to train, but partially also because no one ever bought him a membership.

When his grade cards come in the mail, Mother throws them away like the typical spam mail. I read them once. He had straight A's, but one teacher commented on the fact that when she told the kids to get homework help from their parents, he responded that his parents hadn't spoken to him in over a year. She was considering talking to someone about the community home. Either Quintus got smart and never mentioned Mother and Father ignoring him again, or she just never followed through, because not a single Peacekeeper ever showed up to explore our relationship with Quintus.

Sometimes I want to comfort or pity him, but I made that bed years ago. I ignore him like Mother and Father. And I can't doubt myself now…

I stand to leave. I decide to go upstairs and change into my Reaping clothes. I find a white button-up blouse with long sleeves, black pants that I wore to my grandfather's funeral a few months ago and that are now too short, and some boots. Simple enough clothes and fairly practical, not to mention that I wouldn't mind probably leaving them in the Capitol forever when they change us into the parade clothes.

I walk to the Reapings square about fifteen minutes early, though many people are already there. It takes me only a few seconds to get my finger pricked, and then I enter the seventeens section, only to be shoved between a tall, dark girl who looks disdainful and a childish girl who has her strawberry-blond hair up in pigtails. I doubt either of them will volunteer. Well, two down, a thousand to beat out in the battle to enter the Games.

A tiny woman walks up to the podium. She wears a red peacoat and, creatively, red tights with a white skirt and pumps. Her hair is large and fluffy white, but her makeup is mostly red and her skin is almost totally covered in white makeup. Certainly a good endeavor for a theme color. At least it's better than three years ago, when the Capitol assigned each escort an animal to theme her outfit after. That was a disaster.

She announces herself as Cherry and gives us a tired smile before walking back and allowing the mayor to come up to the podium. He was elected only a few years ago, mainly because he was the only candidate on the ballot that everyone actually recognized. He was optimistic and confident back then. His frequent interaction with the Capitol and Peacekeepers has made him frazzled and insecure and twitchy.

People like Cherry and the people who made the mayor that way are the two kinds of people I hate. Capitol citizens like Cherry are nationalistic morons who have no understanding of the world they live in. Overbearing, aggressive, threatening Capitol officials and Peacekeepers, meanwhile, have broken the system. The whole thing is basically a feudal system, but with the Peacekeepers acting as an objective outside force to keep things safe and equal. It needs new leadership and new morals. And if possible, at least a few new citizens.

I shake myself out of my distraction and return my attention to the Reapings. The mayor has just finished his speech and Cherry stands at the podium once more, now on a small stool. "Time for the first name," she announces without gusto, and reaches into the bowl. She digs just for a second. "Madeleine Letterford," she says.

I take a deep breath. I shut my eyes.

"I, Aelia Degano, volunteer," I say, surprised slightly at how calm my voice came out. Cherry beckons me up.

I walk up to the stage, feeling as though this isn't real. It won't hit me till later. I look through the crowd until my eyes land on my father. I can't see his mouth through his beard from this far away, but his eyes are smiling. I turn as quickly as possible to stop from being overcome.

Cherry glances at me once, twice, nose slightly wrinkled, then pulls another name out of the Reaping bowl. "Rain Quench!" she announces.

Everyone is silent, for once. The blond braid-clad girl who trains every morning walks up to the stage. I frown. This ditz with the false friends has been reaped? Why isn't anyone volunteering for her? What- was she chosen to volunteer?

Out of the corner of my eye I catch movement. I see a girl running towards the stage, mouth open to volunteer. But she makes a fatal mistake- her hand lands on the stage, and Rain Quench digs her heel directly into the girl's hand. A crack is distinctly audible.

For a second, there is a tension in the air- everyone is silent, waiting to see if someone else will try the same trick.

"Rain Quench and Aelia Degano, everyone. District Two's tributes this year," Cherry announces halfheartedly. Rain makes eye contact with me for the first time. I grab her hand and shake it firmly. I want her to know that I'm not scared of her.

The Peacekeepers escort us into the Justice Building as quickly as possible.

First my mother and father come in. My mother flutters around me, cooing over my newfound tribute status until my father asks for a word alone with me.

He pats my shoulder again and his eyes crinkle up in a friendly way. "You're well on your way to being a real person, Aelia."

I nod. He leaves and I stand straight and tall, ready for whomever else may come in.

Quintus opens the door, then turns and shuts it as carefully and quietly as possible behind me.

I stand still. I keep my posture good.

He strides across the room towards me. When Mother and Father aren't here he always looks a little more self-confident, like he truly can make it on his own. Something jangles in his pocket- he holds it out to me. A silver necklace.

"Father's the most important person to you, yes?" he says quietly. "This was the last thing he gave to you. I figured that you would want it."

I take it from Quintus silently. He stands there for several moments.

I want, sort of, to comfort him. The want is stronger now that he's actually spoken to me and tried to help me and tried to be nice even though I've ignored him for as long as Mother and Father have (a long time) but I resist. I stand still. I focus on keeping my posture perfect.

He stares at his hands in his pockets, then the floor and then he closes his eyes. He turns around slowly and leaves.

…I can't doubt myself…

…even for a second…

 **A/N: Up next- Gigabyte Data! She had a little less information about her in her form so she's a lot more 'my own character,' though of course the core of her character is still the same.**

 **Remember to review and PM lots of characters, guys!**

 **Que tenga un buen dia,**

 **-Phannie**


	8. D3: Gigabyte Data

**A/N: I have a lot of explaining to do and one very short answer.**

 **I know I didn't update through November. Basically, I did Nanowrimo. (In case anyone's interested, I didn't win, but I did finish the story, so that counts as winning to me.) I'm going to start updating on Fridays. (I know I've said that God Knows How Many Times, but I Have A Plan Now. I know I've said that, too. Nanowrimo got me.)**

 **Also… heh, embarrassing! I sort of lost the PMs the other District 3 girls were in that were up for the running… so basically, anyone who's sent in a District 3 girl, can you please PM/review her in again? Thanks!**

 **Well, I guess that's all I've got to say. Gigi was sent in by Mystical Pine Forest!**

 _Gigabyte Data, 16, D3_

My older sister used to tell me stories before bed. My favorite story went like this:

'Once upon a time there was a little girl. She had long black hair and a long black dress. The little girl was just barely royalty, the daughter of the son-in-law of a duke. The other children in the village made fun of her, sometimes for only being royalty by a hair, sometimes for not behaving like a royal girl should.

But the girl ignored them and did as she always did. She sat on roofs and in windows, staring at the sky.

And yet as so often happens to little royal girls, the tentative peace was not forever. On the day of her birthday, the year she turned…" and here my sister would always tickle me and say my age, "a wicked wicked witch came to the castle. The witch was the most beautiful woman the little girl had ever seen and yet the witch was evil. The witch cursed the little girl to become a blackbird, for blackbirds live only two years. The wicked witch told her that in two years time the little girl would die. If the little girl was worthy, the wicked witch would bring her back, but no one could do much of worth in just two years, spent as a bird, and the little girl would die forgotten and unneeded.

The little girl, now a blackbird, was panicked and flew away, far far away, out the window to hide herself away.

Once the little blackbird was far far away she began to think about the witch's curse. She alighted in the branch of a tree and sat down to think about her situation. The little blackbird, suddenly, realized that she didn't mind if she died. She just wanted to be remembered. Not to be famous, either, but to be remembered, to have some people in the world who occasionally said, "Remember that blackbird, we saw once?"

So the little blackbird set out to find people, many, many people. Every new village she came to she would stick around until she got to know the people who lived there, and she helped them, and played with their children, and the felt like a family to her until she remembered how little time she had and left, off to the next town again.

In the end she became an elderly old blackbird with grandchildren and what she considered a great big family all around the world, consisting of all the people she had befriended. She died happily knowing that she would be remembered by all.

Then much to her surprise she opened her eyes and there she was again, a little girl on her birthday, except now the wicked witch was gone. The little girl looked all around but could not find the witch nor any explanation for what she had gone through. For years, she searched for the witch far and wide, and up into adulthood still sought explanation for her experience as a child.

Then on her deathbed, the witch came to see her, and they greeted one another like old friends, and left together as thought they were both young."

Then Tera would smile, and blow out the lantern and kiss me on the head and mess up my hair and I would lay down on the pillow and smile sleepily at her, and she would get up and leave and close the door very, very quietly.

Then she'd go running down the hall and I'd hear doors slamming as she left for the night and quiet, aggressive voices as my parents argued and the three dogs out back, barking, barking, barking, and then all the lights in the house would be out and I'd be staring at the ceiling by the light of the moon.

It was nice, when my sister used to put me to bed.

I stood at the window. I could still see her footprints in the frost. She left late last night. She got caught up in the argument. She's been getting caught up in the argument more and more since the arguments started being about her. I didn't get involved. I never do. I always hide downstairs or in the closet or behind the barn with our two remaining dogs, Kettle and Pot, and the puppies.

I was willing to bet that if I went and looked out the window on the other side of the house, I could see footprints there, too- Mom's or Dad's, one of them always stomps through the woods to the abandoned house, or the town square, or one of their friend's houses, and sleeps there. Every night since I was twelve. That was when Tera started to make the main character of the story an orphan.

I walked away from the window and to my closet. My room is sparse. A bed, a rug, a shelf, a closet door. I open the closet to get a dress- ratty, long, old, supposedly green but in this light, just gray. I put it on along with leggings and a coat, both of which are also old and long, and some shoes, which are luckily neither, and slip out my door and out of the house.

Kettle hears me coming around the back door and comes running. Pot never strays from the puppies- he's a very good father- but Kettle comes straight up to me and shoves her face under my hand. I stroke her twice and shoo her back to the barn.

I make my way down the street not really sure where I'm going and end up at the schoolyard. The elementary school. I've not been here in years, now- six of them, to be precise.

There aren't any kids around. It's ten o'clock on a Monday but no one's here. It's the Reaping day.

No one's even awake. On Reaping Day, the whole town shuts down. Everyone sleeps in like they're letting our economy take a pause.

I look around at the drawn curtains and frosty sidewalks which are already starting to melt even though it's cloudy out. Then, I climb over the low, low fence which is about half my height.

I make my way over to the monkey-bar thing that's shaped like a dome made out of diamonds- I've never been sure what it's called. I climb to the top- hardly a challenge, and sit on it, the metal bars digging into my butt.

I remember coming here and sitting on top of this the whole recess. I remember imagining everyone was gone. I remember imagining a day like this. On days like this, everybody's gone. I didn't yet understand why.

I look down at my legs- long, certainly my best feature- and smooth my dress out prettily around them. Pointless.

I sit there for I don't know how long, until curtains start to open in the houses all around, and I scramble down from the dome thing, hop over the fence, and run home.

I come in the back door again, after greeting Kettle, and notice my sister's boots next to the door. So she's come home- and she's probably taken over the bathroom. Lovely. Not that I needed it. I'm staying in and at home until the last possible minute. If I could, I would spend every day at home, lying in bed, singing, staring at the ceiling.

Singing is my favorite thing in the world. My voice is awful but singing is beautiful and calm and adds a tiny bit of hope to our meaningless existences.

I talk like this. I've been called a nihilist. I get called a nihilist a lot, really. By people who don't even know what it means.

…who knows why they would waste their time gossiping about me of all people, gossiping at all, when they are so firmly entrenched in the belief that they have a reason to stay alive that they spend all their waking moments attempting to do so. Who knows why saying this about me makes them feel better about their own pointless existence.

I've been standing rigid in the doorway, and suddenly I realize this, and how dangerous it is, and I close the door and flee upstairs to my room, where I lie on the bed, splayed out, pretending as always that I'm not there.

At about 8:00 my mother, called, "Gigi! We need to go or we'll be late for the Reapings!"

I think about calling down, " _Where's Dad?"_

" _Is he at the firm?"_

" _Is he at Marlene's?"_

" _Which one did he lose it on last night, you or Tera?"_

But I don't say a word.

I sit in my room until I hear Tera walk by, then I get up and leave and walk past her out the door and towards the Town Square. I don't wait for Mom or Tera, I don't want to wait. I don't even care.

It's such a short walk to the Town Square, and check-in barely takes a few seconds. All the roads are cobbled up here. We invented carts and wagons that automatically account for that. We're a rich District- not Careers, not physically strong enough for that, but we're not nearly as poor as any of the others. If we were all strong enough and cared enough to win and weren't so set in our _apathetic enough to be sometimes considered rebellious_ ways, then we would certainly be Careers by now. The Capitol needs electronics far more than it needs fish.

There I've gone again. I blink and stare into the face of the Peacekeeper who's pricking my finger.

"Age," she says again, looking tired. Her face is sallow and her hair, dyed lavender probably from her Capitolite glory days, is now faded out and put up in a ponytail.

"16," I tell her. The computer automatically tells her my name and gender, but we've not yet written a program that tracks people's age just by looking at how long it's been since they last had their finger pricked. (In school, this whole semester has been about how to begin working on that and how to write the basic code.)

"Go to your corresponding age group," she says, and turns to the next girl.

I walk down the aisle and duck under the box that's roped off and labeled "16". Easy enough. Few people are here already; my mother said we were going to be late, but we're always early to everything when she's in charge.

I stand around examining the cobblestones for about a half hour- a small lizard seems to live under one, but he always gets away before I can get a good look at him.

Finally, the area fills up and the ceremony begins. The mayor reads off the Treaty of Treason as always, and then, from behind backstage, an amused looking woman clad in orange totters on her heels up to the mic. She has a top hat on top of smooth dark hair, a peacoat and a mid-knee length skirt, and heels, all a bright orange.

"Hello everyone!" she says. Her voice is surprisingly deep and sultry for an escort- normally they sound like they've been drinking helium. She's new, too. Last year's escort- and the year before, and the year before- was an old, fragile looking lady who called herself "Darling". I think they moved her to a better District… either that, or she died.

"I'm Sherbet!" the woman clad in orange exclaims, and claps her hands on her thighs. She's feigning enthusiasm. She's clapping, bouncing, and all sorts of other things that will register as 'excited' for a lot of people, but her face looks amused and a little bored and her voice flat.

I can see Tera standing off in the eighteens section, her hand on her stomach like it always is now. Like Mom and Dad always fight about.

I suddenly feel a little claustrophobic.

"Isn't it a lovely day?" Sherbet says, putting her hand on her face and tilting her head a little bit. "Well. It's time for the Reapings, now!"

She gestures to the mayor who brings her over the ball. (In 3, where we're, as I mentioned, a tiny bit rebellious in an apathetic way, it's become tradition for the mayor to hold the Reaping ball.) She digs in one slender hand and pulls out one name.

It takes her just a moment to read it and understand it, her face flicking over the name once, twice, three times. She frowns. She reads it again.

I feel like everyone's pressing against me.

Finally, finally she opens her mouth and reads into the microphone, "Gigabyte Data!"

I can feel the blood rushing to my head.

I hit it on the cobblestones and wonder, vaguely, if the lizard is going to crawl on my face.

…

… _huh?_

I wake up on a couch.

My head hurts and I don't remember much. Nothing at all, in fact. I remember the Reapings and Sherbet calling my name, and…

That's it.

Do I have a concussion?

I blink once, twice, the world isn't spinning like it was before I hit my head so that's all well and good. I see that the ceiling is white and think about how nice the couch is and wonder if I couldn't be in heaven. If there is one. "Unlikely," I murmur aloud.

"What's unlikely, sweetheart?" Sherbet's voice purrs from the corner.

I practically leap out of the bed. There she is. Her clothing is a lot chiller now. Just a puffy light sherbet colored shirt and the same dark orange skirt and heels. Her makeup is mostly washed off. She looks almost like a real person now.

"Nothing," I say. "Where am I?"

Sherbet smiled thinly and it doesn't reach her eyes. She reaches up and pats her knee nervously. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, sweetheart."

"Yeah?" I say, trying to seem fearless so she won't baby me. I want to know. I want to know.

"You fell down and hit your head and you were unconscious… for quite a while," Sherbet says.

"Yeah?" I repeat. The ground feels a little shaky. Must be the hit on the head.

"Quite a while," Sherbet says again.

I just look at her now.

Sherbet reaches up, touches her hair, starts to play with it but stops and puts her hand back on her knee. She grimaces. "So long that we had to put you on the train without allowing you to say goodbye to your family."

I think of loving, fragile Mom, optimistic, flaky Dad, scared, lonely Tera, and a feeling of dread and horror sinks over me and settles into my bones.

I want them to remember me.

 **A/N: Can I just say that Sherbet is one of my favorite OCs I've ever made? She's cunning, empathetic, and not at all what she seems to be… :3**

 **Gigi originally didn't have any family problems, but I extrapolated from their personalities and, well, it was a really good explanation for an honestly strange personality.**

 **(And in case anyone was wondering, yes, I was implying that Tera was pregnant. Because she is.)**

 **Que tenga un buen dia,**

 **Phannie**


	9. D3: Thea Butler

**A/N: Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening depending on where you're at. I finished this chapter waaaayyyy early because.. what can I say, I love Thea! I think this chapter is a little rough around the edges- I'm pretty sure I accidentally changed tenses at some point, then switched back- and I didn't get Thea's personality across quite as elegantly as I'd hoped, but I find it really hard to hold back a chapter when it's finished.**

 **Also, I have a really important announcement to make! I know I can't update all the time (though I'm going to start doing it more often, sometimes things get in the way, like holidays, vacations, and life). I'd really like to provide you guys with awesome new content all the time so check out the details on the NEW TUMBLR BLOG! Yeah, that's right. There's now a link in my profile.**

 **Credit to CelticGames4 for creating sweet Thea! She's gong to be really fun in the Games…. :)**

 _Thea Butler, 17, D3_

Mornings are always hard for me.

I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror and look at my hair, which I have to keep in a ponytail in the house, and my face, which always looks too masculine when I haven't got makeup on and my hair is back.

I look like someone else. I look like a boy.

…I look like 'Travis'.

I sigh. I can't put on any makeup today, and Mom and Tierza will probably make me wear dress pants and a button up shirt and keep my hair up.

"But first, to struggle through breakfast," I say to my mirror self.

I stay in my pajamas and walk downstairs, and sit down at the table just as my mother sets down toast in front of me.

I lift my hand to my mouth and almost unconsciously start to chew on one nail. It's a bad habit. "Good morning," I say quietly.

"Good morning, Travis," my mother says brightly. She pats my head. Then she greets my sister and hugs her. I hate being seen as a boy by my family, and one of the pettier reasons, other than because I'm actually a girl, is that I never get hugged. Apparently people just never hug boys.

I chew a little harder on my nail.

"Thanks for breakfast, mother," I say softly.

She smiles at me. "You're welcome," she says. "I picked out a nice pair of pants and a shirt for you. I really think you should have gone and gotten your hair cut before the Reaping but it's too late now."

"No kidding you should have gotten your hair cut. Boys with long hair are gross," my sister adds.

I bite my lip and say nothing. My sister loves me a lot, in her way, but whenever I've tried to remind her, just gently, that I'm a girl, that I'm Thea and not Travis, she just tells me all about how I only feel like this because I was raised with no strong male father figure and how I really am a boy and I'll realize that eventually. I tried to tell her, once, years ago, that this is really how I feel and inside, I really am a girl, but she didn't listen. I never tried again.

…

I just eat the toast.

Mother talks all through breakfast about how glad she is she doesn't have to worry about me this year and I think guiltily of how this year, before the announced the Quell, I took in all the paperwork to the Justice Building and reregistered myself as a girl under the name Thea, and the Peacekeepers were surprisingly nice about it and used she/her pronouns and called me Thea and one even told me that she liked my cute shoes.

It felt like being a normal girl.

I'm not, I'm not, I know I'm not, I'm not the same as everyone else. But someday I'd like to get good enough at passing that I'm treated like I am.

I'm already good with makeup. My best friend's older sister, Kelly, gives me makeup and dresses she's outgrown. A lot of the time after I leave the house I change into dresses so my mother won't see, and I can pass for a really flat-chested cis girl a lot of the time if I don't screw anything up.

I can even feel pretty.

I can't pass at school, though. Tierza convinced practically the whole school to keep calling me Travis and using he/him pronouns.

"What's up, Travis?" Tierza asks brightly across the table and I realize I've been staring at her this whole time while I thought.

"Oh. Oh, nothing," I say. "I um, probably need to go upstairs and shower. Is that alright..?"

"Yes, you go ahead. I'll clean up. Don't take too long though, Tierza will need to look nice too," my mother says. She pinches Tierza's cheek playfully and Tierza snorts. We're a jokey sort.

"Okay," I say about as quickly as possible, and I stand and go upstairs, making sure to tiptoe.

I take a really quick shower, put conditioner in my hair, dry off and look in the mirror again. I run my hands over my totally flat boy-chest and sigh. If nothing else, if I got reaped the Capitol might let me get boobs.

I put my hair back in a ponytail. When I have to dress like a boy to make it past my mother and sister, I can spend minutes looking at myself in my bedroom mirror to try and see some of that femininity that comes out when I'm wearing a dress and have my hair down.

I sigh. I have to get a hobby other than being miserable and looking in the mirror. I have Juro for that, though.

He's my hobby, I guess.

And wow I just realized how weird that sounded- what I meant was that he's really my only friend, and I feel better around myself when I'm around him- he sees me like just a regular girl, and he makes me feel really confident and smart and pretty. It's nice.

It'll be time to go in just a little bit.

I take a deep breath.

Then I go downstairs, still tiptoeing. "Hey mom, could I meet up with Juro before the Reapings?" I ask. I stand totally still waiting for my mother to answer, keeping my breath even.

"Of course Travis sweetheart!" Mom says.

I wince at her using my dead name, but don't say anything. I just thank her and leave.

Our house is small and falling down because Dad, the main bacon-home-bringer, died years ago after he got in an argument with a Peacekeeper. (I've always thought that he might have supported me- guess I'll never know.) It's a fairly far walk to the nicer neighborhood where Juro lives. Both his parents are alive and his older sister Kelly also lives at home even though she's 20, she says she doesn't ever really want to leave. They're all so nice to me. I'm out to them- well, I'm out to everyone in the District, but they're one of the few people who accept me.

I smile as I think about it, and end up on their doorstep faster than I expected. I ring the bell.

Juro's mother opens the door. "Oh, hi Thea!" she says. "Did your mother make you wear pants?"

I don't want to throw my mother under the bus, but it's true, so I nod.

"Did you want to wear a dress? I know you grew out of a lot of Kelly's old dresses, but I thought I'd go shopping for you and I bought a few you can wear around," she says.

Kelly used to fill backpacks full of makeup and dresses and jewelry and have Juro give them to me at school. I'd put them in my locker and go to school early to change and put on makeup, and stay late to change back and wash off all the makeup. Recently I've grown out of a lot of the dresses (though the skirts and tops still mostly fit) but I didn't expect Juro's mother to go out and buy things for me.

"Oh- um, thank you," I say with a grateful smile. She's always so kind to me… "I was just going to wear this since my mother wants to meet up with me at the Reaping," I explain quickly.

"Of course sweetheart," she says. "Oh- and Juro's upstairs, and Kelly's getting ready for the Reaping in the upstairs bathroom. Okay?"

"Thank you," I say again. She opens the door all the way and I go in and upstairs. This house is the only place I've ever _really_ felt at home.

I knock on Juro's open door, and he moves under the covers of his bed. "Wow," I say. "I didn't even see you there."

He laughs and sticks his bed above the pillow. "Give me a minute to get dressed. I was trying to sleep in, I didn't know you were coming."

I close the door and stand outside for a moment, smiling as I listen to his curses as he bumps into things trying to get dressed, and Kelly's singing in the shower. Then he opens the door again, wearing something very similar to me.

"We're twinning," he says.

"Is that a verb?" I laugh at him. His dopey face gives me a huge grin back as a reward. Juro can always make me feel better about everything.

"Didn't my mom tell you about the dresses we bought you?" he says.

"Yeah. I told her she didn't have to do that…"

"She loves shopping for girls, and she'd love to have another daughter. We never mind buying for you or letting you stay over or helping you out, Thea," Juro said.

I smile, but I still feel a little guilty. His house is lovely, and they've offered for me to stay with them before, but I don't want to burden them. They already spend a lot of money on just feeding me when I come over and now they're buying clothes for me.

"Okay, okay. Wait, I wanted to tell you- in Security Programs yesterday," Juro starts.

"Don't talk about that class, I'm still mad I didn't get in," I tease him.

"Oh, shut up, you're going to be a graphic designer. Probably get a kick-ass job and live in the Capitol. But seriously," he continues, "Tyler- you know Tyler? Tyler was just working on his security program for a home, right."

Tyler Vance, ace programmer, always talks about how his home security program is going to stop all crime. He's cute, smart, and uses my correct pronouns, but he's just a little full of himself. "Yeah?" I prod.

"Well Lyra- you know Lyra? Lyra was talking some shit about Tyler," Juro says.

Lyra's tall, thin, pretty, smart, and basically everything I want to be. "Yes?" I say.

"Well Tyler said he saw a bug in her program, and she said she didn't see it, and you know how if someone can't spot a bug he just fixes it for them?" Juro says.

"Yeah," I reply. I sit down on the bed and pat the comforter, and Juro sits down as well, but pops back up almost immediately when he starts talking again.

"Well he offered to fix her bug, and high and mighty Lyra just been talking shit about him says okay because normally he fixes it for people, and he takes her laptop and makes some edits and gives it back," Juro says.

"That's not a very interesting story," I prod gently.

"It's not the end. So Lyra doesn't see anything wrong, sits back down, starts working, makes a change and goes to test, and the computer's screen goes totally blue, okay," Juro says.

"He broke her computer?" I ask.

"No, no. Cause then, see, all over the screen in white type, it starts writing over and over, 'lyra's a dumbass lyra's a dumbass lyra's a dumbass,'" Juro says excitedly. He laughs at his own long-winded joke, and I can't help but snort either, because honestly it's pretty funny.

He starts repeating the punchline, and I'm laughing harder and harder, and then, just to ruin the moment it seems, Juro's mom yells upstairs, "Juro! Thea! Kelly! It's about time to leave!"

I don't want to leave, but then I get the image again of the Capitol reaping me (just like they wouldn't have if I'd not reregistered as a girl, but I can't regret that) and me not being there, and I smile at Juro. "Guess we've got to leave," I say wistfully.

"Yeah," he says, and his tone of voice matches mine.

We all leave the house together. Once we get to the Reapings, I alone have to check in, but I also have to spot my family.

"Bye, I probably won't see you again until tomorrow. My mom wants me to go to the butcher's or something," I say to Juro. He smiles and I pat his arm.

"Bye," he says, and Kelly and their parents also bid me goodbye.

I run through the crowd, which is quickly getting denser, to my mother. I hate crowds, but if I move fast enough I'll be home free.

I quickly come up behind my mother and Tierza and tap them on their shoulders.

"Oh, hi Travis," my Mom says. Tierza pats my arm the same way I patted Juro's, the same way girls always pat boy's arms, and I quietly bite my lip and have to say nothing.

"I just wanted to check in with you, could I stay with Juro for the rest of the Reapings? I'll come home after, I promise," I say. I try to say it fast, the Reapings will start soon- I need to check in before they start.

"Okay," my mother says. She gives me her smile, her distant smile, and I smile back just as distant and turn and run to the Peacekeeper checking in the last few girls.

I'm the last girl in. I see my name as the last unmarked one on the spreadsheet on the computer. I'm the only one not checked in, the only one with no age written in. "Seventeen," I tell the lavender-haired Peacekeeper who complimented me on my shoes when I went to get reregistered and now doesn't even recognize me.

She takes it fast and types in my age, then gestures for me to leave. I practically run to the seventeens section. I can't be late, I can't be late.

As soon as I'm in the correct section and the mayor starts reading the Treaty of Treason, the scenario I've been imagining all day where I'm not at the Reaping and I get reaped and then killed for not being there, it disappears from my head.

It's replaced by something even worse- being reaped. Being reaped, oh my god.

Not only would I be going to a death game- everyone in the District would realize I'd reregistered as a girl instead of 'Travis'. Worse, everyone in the Capitol- the Capitol I've always sort of wanted to live in, where they accept trans people, where I could get a good job as a designer- would get their first good look at me dressed as masculinely as possible.

I take a deep, even breath. I calm down. I look around. The odds are in my favor.

Once the mayor is done, a flirty-looking woman with dark hair and obnoxious orange clothes strides onstage in heels, and goes to the mic. "Hello everyone," she says. For an escort, her voice is very smokey, unlike District Three's previous escort.

"I'm Sherbet!" she says with enthusiasm that doesn't really match her voice or her appearance. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

She talks with her hands, this woman. I watch her closely.

"Well. It's time for the Reapings now!" she says. The mayor brings up the ball and she reaches in one slender hand.

The crowd, previously murmuring, goes totally silent.

Sherbet reads the paper, reads it again and again, slowly beginning to frown, but just as it becomes really noticeable, her face pops back into that smile that doesn't quite fit her and presses her mouth almost to the microphone, and she shouts, "Gigabyte Data!"

I blink at the name. There are some older families in Three who do have electronically-themed names, but no one typically has electronic-themed first names anymore.

After a few moments, the crowd starts looking around for Gigabyte, looking, looking, she doesn't seem to be coming up. I myself turn into the sixteens section and just by chance happen to see a skinny, redheaded girl who looks a lot younger than sixteen faint onto the ground.

Not a moment later, Peacekeepers notice as well. One runs over to prick her finger, the computer tells him it's Gigabyte, and they heft her up and bring her to the Justice Building.

I turn back to the stage with the rest of the crowd and find that Sherbet seems to have been watching the whole scene with an expression of interested concern, the way you might look if you're listening to a suspenseful radio program, but one that you're not particularly invested in.

"The poor dear," she says, with no worry at all in her voice. "Now, I'd like to turn your attention to our second female tribute... the ball, please…"

Once again she digs her slender hand into the Reaping ball, pulls out a name and reads it just a few too many times. Not as many as Gigabyte's but too much.

The scene plays through my mind again. The one where the words on her lips are "Thea Butler."

…

Wait…

…

That's what actually happened. She said my name. She said my name.

Almost dazed, half unconscious, I grab my ponytail, let it out and shake out my hair. I puff out my shirt again so I can look a little like a flat-chested cis girl. Somewhere deep inside of me, the irrational part, I wonder, totally calm, if I pass.

I start to walk up to the stage unconsciously, like my legs are going by themselves. I'm not paying attention to that, I'm picking at my fingernails. I walk up to the stage. I stand next to Sherbet. My eyes sweep the crowd.

"Oh! What a surprise!" Sherbet says, unable to contain any sort of surprise that I'm a girl. Maybe she thinks I'm a butch lesbian, maybe just unfortunately masculine-looking, but as soon as they hear me speak, I'm going to be toast.

Almost unconsciously, I make a small noise at the back of my throat the way I always do when I think someone's misgendering me, the way I always protest silently without actually protesting. Somehow, Sherbet catches the noise.

"What was that?" she asks, and holds the microphone up to me.

I flinch. I'm not ready to basically come out to a nation. But I can't not reply.

"Uhm, nothing," I say as quietly as I can. So quiet my voice sounds hoarse, but it echoes all through the square.

That deep, deep voice was just broadcasted across a nation.

"Now, normally you would shake hands with Gigabyte, but she's sadly down for the count," Sherbet says, to me and not the microphone. She turns back to the microphone and announces, "Your District Three tributes for the 100th Games, Gigabyte Data and Thea Butler!"

It feels like a blur. I'm rushed into the Justice Building and put in a room that was clearly a conference room two minutes ago, and suddenly this conference room is the only thing that seems real. Did I just get reaped, or was that just my imagination..?

It's confirmed when Kelly comes running into the room almost as fast as her legs can carry her. "Listen, Thea, I got here as fast as I could. Your mom and sister are pissed," she says.

On the one hand, I'm scared of the wrath my family will bring down upon me. On the other hand, I have to take a moment to appreciate how forward Kelly is with me. I've always loved her just because she always assumes that I'm up to the task, whatever the task is- and I usually rise to the occasion when she acts like that.

But moving on.

"What can we do about it?" I ask. I really don't want to face them. I suddenly realize I don't even want to see them. They don't even really know who I am. They never realized that I'm Thea instead of Travis.

"You can request to have certain visitors blocked from the list. Just ask the Peacekeepers when they come in, okay?" Kelly says. She grabs my shoulders, pats me, and gives me a hug. "Are you okay? Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," I say automatically, and then I realize just how stupid it is to say that in this situation. Kelly gets it, though.

"Are you sure?" she asks again, and I say I'm fine again, and she tells me she doesn't want to waste my time with my other friends (even though we both know I only have two friends and she's one) and she hugs me again and she leaves.

I sit in the conference room, waiting, waiting, and yet Mom and Tierza never come in. They must have decided I was no longer worth the effort.

…maybe I'm not. It's not like I'm the most feminine girl in the world. Maybe I'm not even girly enough to be a girl. Maybe that's why I was born in the wrong body.

I sit down in a chair and bury my face in my hands.

I hear the door open and close. "Hey," comes Juro's voice.

I lift my face and look at him. "Hi," I say. Just the sight of him lifts my spirits.

He sits down. His face is serious, this must be serious. Of course it's serious. I'm getting sent off to the Games. I stop thinking and listen.

"Do you remember the drinks?" he says.

I remember the drinks.

One night me and Juro had a sleepover at his house. His parents were gone for the weekend and Kelly was working late, and we found some alcohol. Don't know what kind, but we found it. We decided to try it just for giggles. The next morning we woke up with a massive hangover, both shirtless, practically on top of each other. We both swore never to speak of it again.

"I thought we didn't talk about the drinks," I say carefully.

"Yeah, but- I think we should. I think we need to. This might be the last time we have to talk about the drinks," Juro says.

"Okay," I say carefully.

"I mean- what I need to tell you is that I don't know what you think. I'm willing to bet you just see me as a friend. I just need you to know that I kind of like you in a non-friend way. And if you still want to be just friends, I'm cool with that, and I want to stay your friend, and I'm mainly telling you this because I think you should know," Juro says. It all spills out of his mouth at once.

I stare at him for a moment.

I can't say that there haven't been moments when I thought we could be something more. Or that he was pretty cute. But I'm not honestly sure how I feel about him, or even how I feel about being in a relationship.

I take a deep breath.

"I think- I don't know. I don't know how I feel about you or this or anything. But I think," I say, "I think when I get back I'll have an answer for you."

 **A/N: Now that we've finally met Gigi's District partner (and what a cutie she is, too..) we're ¼ of the way through the Reapings! Just thought you all would like to know that. ;)**

 **Coming up next, District 4. Either Braelynn or Thalia. The two of them are** _ **extremely**_ **different as people, and I'm really not sure who I want to start with. But don't worry, I'll get to work soon enough! :)**

 **Que tenga un buen dia,**

 **Phannie**


	10. D4: Braelynn Etchnet

**A/N: The Holiday Non-Update was ok, right? Sorry. ;P**

 **Well, hey. On the bright side, you get a new chapter! I know I say this every time, but Braelynn is one of my favorite tributes to have written for so far. She's not a particularly deep character, unlike some of the others- everything she reveals on the surface to the reader is true and she's not got any secrets. But she's a well designed one. Kudos to FlawlessCatastrophe!**

 _Braelynn Etchnet, 18, D4_

I hug my knees and watch the sun rise over the ocean.

My house isn't anywhere near the coast, but it's high up on a hill, near the outskirts of the District, and you can see the ocean from here.

I've been up all night up here on the roof, unable to sleep for fear and excitement of today. I haven't slept a wink, something that I'm sure will come back to bite me, but at the moment I don't even care. I'm too excited.

Not long ago, the sky went form navy to lavender, and now the sun is rising, turning everything pretty shades of orange and red and dashing across the ocean to Four.

I can already feel how tired I am, but it's a bit late- it's time to go down and get ready now, to cook breakfast and get dressed and everything.

(Honestly, living by myself isn't even that different than living with my mom.)

I saved for years for this house, from when it first came available when I was just fifteen, through its various short-lived owners, and the day I turned eighteen I took my saved money and a massive amount of birthday money and bought it.

I pat the shingles beneath me with a loving hand and watch as the sun rises fully above the horizon.

Time to go get ready now.

I scoot back and slip into the house through the small square trapdoor.

I drop through the roof in the kitchen and land on the floor silently, like a cat. It took years of training not to make a massive thud. Now my training center membership has almost expired. Tomorrow I'll never be a Career. I'm only even going to the Reapings today as practically a formality.

I never thought about it before- how for ten years, usually, we train to be killing machines, to be stealthy and strong and smart, and then we have to go get a job and be adults.

Then I think about the fishing crews I've seen, who wrestle giant fish and kill them, about the people that operate the giant machines that produce boats and yachts, about the people who run the training centers and the people who teach stupid tourists how to swim in the ocean and realize that no, we use these skills. No wonder the other Districts are so freaking poor. They never realized that skills for the Games are also life skills.

That's another reason why the Games are such a genius idea: they encourage the District's children to develop important skills that they wouldn't otherwise care about.

I take eggs out of the fridge and start to scramble them.

Cooking is a great example. If it weren't for training, I would never have learned to cook, and I'd probably be eating noodles every day.

Of course, in District Four things can be a bit different than the other Career Districts…

Here, only kids that show consistent good grades (Bs or higher) in certain classes are offered Games Training 1. If they do well in that class, their parents can pay to buy them a membership for the training center, and they can take the three classes that follow Games Training 1. I never got to take 4 because I was recognized as a possible Career my freshman year instead of in middle school like most kids, but if I could, I would have taken the class.

The eggs are finished fairly quickly, so I scarf them down and run upstairs to get dressed and put on makeup.

I dig out the Reaping dress I've worn for the past several years and that will never be worn again. It's sparkly and mint green and pretty tight now, but all the better for the Reapings.

And who knows, maybe this year, my voice will cut through the din and I'll get to go to the Capitol. (Unlikely. My voice is scratchy, soft, and doesn't carry.)

I put it on without the tights I usually wear it with because who cares, I'm an adult and I can do whatever the hell I want.

I look pretty good in the dress, though it's a little hard to breathe, but it'll do since I'm only wearing it for a few hours before returning home to slouch around in underclothes.

Then I go to the bathroom and put my hair in a waterfall braid. Badass. I crouch down and rifle through my makeup.

It takes me a few moments to find a frosty, lip-staining blue lip gloss.

I stare at it for a moment or two, then straighten up and quickly swipe it onto my lips.

Anything to impress the sponsors, right?

I look pretty freaking awesome, so I just brush my hair out again and wash my hands to reassure myself, and I'm ready.

I have plenty of time before the Reapings, and not a lot to do, so I guess I'd better drop by where I used to live with my mother and sister...

I leave, and lock the door to my house behind me.

I have to carry my shoes in my hand, since I'm wearing heels, so that's annoying but also not the worst thing ever to happen. It's several blocks from my place to my family's and usually the streets are both clean and empty, so I'll be fine. (And I am.)

When I arrive at my family's house, I stand primly at the door and knock.

I stand, stand, stand, waiting.

Brooklyn opens the door, not even actually looking at me. She's consumed by blowing on her drying nails. Brooklyn used to look up to me- she still does, I think- but two years ago she got popular and shallow and decided the coolest thing possible for her to do was to fight with me on everything. My senior year was probably awful for her, now that I think of it. I won an award on the cross-country team and was nominated for Homecoming, but in her junior year she's still accomplished literally nothing. I've salted that wound before, and if she tries to fight me today, I'll do it again. I'm not above using people's weaknesses as a weapon against them.

But not yet. She's only opened the door.

"Hi, Brooklyn!" I say.

Brooklyn doesn't even acknowledge that I'm here, just walks back inside, still blowing on her nails, and sits in front of the TV, which is playing Channel 3 pre-Reaping commentary. (I never understood pre-Reaping commentary. What are they talking about?! Nothing has happened yet!)

"Hey, Brooklyn," I say, following her into the living room. She ignores me. "Brooklyn, where's Mom?"

Brooklyn ignores me again. This must be her new method of annoying the shit out of me- the silent treatment. Luckily for her, Mom comes down the stairs just then.

"What was that, Braelynn, sweetie?" she asks.

"I was looking for you," I say, letting a little affection into my voice.

Mom is really graceful and humorous at 53. She did a good job of raising me (less so Brooklyn, as you can probably tell). Her only problem is that she doesn't approve of the Games.

Apparently my aunt on my dad's side died in the Games. Which was why he was so depressed. Which was why he couldn't hold a steady job. Which was why he jumped off a bridge two years ago. Or so Mom says. Me, I think he was just unstable.

But as a result of all this, she really disapproves of my volunteering every year. She only paid for my training center membership when I was younger because she knew Career classes and training taught good life skills, like I talked about earlier. She never wanted me to actually be in the Games. But every year, I volunteer. She knows she really can't stop me from volunteering, but I think she's relieved that this is my last year of being eligible.

"So you're going to volunteer for those nasty Games again? At least you'll look nice," she says, just a little disapproval in her voice. She thinks I look like a slut. Whatever.

"Brooklyn, doesn't your sister look nice?" Mom says.

"As my boyfriend would put it, Braelynn looks like an actual fucking prostitute," Brooklynn says. "Do either of you mind if I change the channel?"

"Go ahead. Do you think you'll get Homecoming next year, Brooklynn?" I ask. Brooklynn digs her recently-dried nails into the couch, but doesn't respond, and her face betrays nothing.

"Have you guys had breakfast yet?" I ask. "Do you want me to cook you something?"

"Oh, we're fine," Mom says airily. "What time did you say we needed to be there?"

"Eight," I tell her. "Best to be early. Actually, considering that I'm walking, I'd better get going. I'll see you after, okay?"

Mom walks over and gives me a quick hug as I walk to the door. Brooklynn changes the channel and pretends I don't exist.

…hey, sometimes we can at least pretend to be a normal family. I think that went surprisingly well.

I walk to the town square, which is paved with these pretty triangular stones right from around here. The stage and ropes are set up, but I must have shown up a little early. The Reaping doesn't start until nine, check-in starts at eight. I check my watch. Seven fifty-five.

All the stores are closed, so I sit on a bench until the Peacekeeper runs out for check-in. I'm the first one to get checked in this year, it seems. I hold out my exposed forearm to him.

He quickly draws my blood. The machine tells him who I am and he marks me as present, and says, "Age?"

"Eighteen," I tell him.

He puts it into the computer. "Look for the roped-off section marked Eighteen," he tells me, nudging his glasses up on his nose. He looks physically weak, probably absent-minded.

Since I arrived so early, I get to see everyone arrive. A few people catch my eye- a couple of my still-eligible friends, who I've drifted apart from since graduation, a lot of younger kids I always see playing in the streets, a tall wild-looking girl whose body is covered in scars, and the fourteen-year-old who always delivers our newspaper.

My ex-boyfriend Dameron weaves through the spectating crowd, taking bets on whether one of the volunteers will be under sixteen. (It's rare, but when it happens, betters make a shit-ton of money.) I guess I always knew Dameron was a shady type, and now I think he probably hangs out at the black market most of the time. Still, it's a little sad to see how his life has gone since he failed to become a Career. If I had a quarrel with him now, it'd be too easy to win- a little shame, a little blackmail, and he'd be back at my feet.

As usual, most of the kids in my age section are almost a year younger than me. My birthday's not far after now- I turn nineteen in just a week and a half. These kids are all still in school, still seniors, not self-sufficient yet. They all look so little- did that happen when I became, technically, an Adult?

I'm at the very, front, right next to the stage this year, thanks to being eighteen and also early to arrive. The crowd murmurs behind me as a black woman with bright yellow clothes strolls onstage arm in arm with our elderly mayor. The escort walks up to the microphone and taps it twice.

"Hello, everyone! I'm Sunny. How nice to meet you all!" she exclaims. Which is ridiculous, since she's been coming to this District every year for as long as I can remember (and somehow still looks the same age). If I pointed this out to her, she'd probably break down slowly, getting more and more desperate.

"Ahem. Mayor Angela Stone, everyone!" Sunny says, and turns to the mayor to a smattering of applause. Mayor Stone makes one of those tiny old-lady coughs, and begins to read the Treaty of Treason.

Once Mayor Stone is finished, Sunny turns to the end table at stage left, which holds one of the Reaping balls. The other, the boy's ball, is presumably being kept somewhere safe until next year.

Sunny reaches in and draws out a name. "Angelica Brady," she reads out.

I open my mouth to shout my name, as do many others, but before I even have the chance to start, a loud, scratchy voice carries through the crowd, shouting, "Thalia Waters! I volunteer!"

Sunny nods, and Thalia weaves her way through the crowd and almost leaps, catlike, onto stage, facing Sunny instead of the crowd, standing just a few feet from my face. "Say your name into the microphone," Sunny suggests.

Thalia stalks to the microphone, whips around to face the crowd. I can practically feel my heart misstep. She has a mature, pretty face, with prominent cheekbones, full lips and cat eyes. Her body is muscular. But one of her eyes doesn't focus, and she has scars covering her entire body. She looks like a wild woman.

"Thalia Waters," she repeats into the microphone.

I keep staring at her face until I notice Sunny is going through the Reaping ball once more. Sunny pulls out a slip and reads out, "Jo Zaberm-"

As always, the crowd starts shouting before the second name is read. I put my hands around my mouth and scream, "Braelynn Etchnet! I volunteer!"

Maybe it's because I'm so close to the stage, maybe it's because my voice broke and is therefore much louder than usual, but somehow, _amazingly_ , Sunny gestures at me.

The crowd goes quiet. They're not stupid. I pull myself up on stage gracefully, stand, wobble just a bit on my heels. I walk to the microphone and say, "Braelynn Etchnet. I volunteer."

I turn on my heel and hold out my hand to the wild woman Thalia Waters. She stares at it for a moment, confused. Then her hand flashes out, gives my hand a single, mighty shake, and shows a leering, toothy smile at me.

I stare at her, but can't think of a single weakness.

…how? I can't focus on anything but her cat eyes and the confusion I'm feeling.

Then the Peacekeepers rush us away into the Justice Building. The room is nice. Decorated for the Games. One banner reads, Congratulations, Tribute!

The first ones in are some of my old friends. I kind of drifted apart from the since we graduated, but the reminisce with me, and congratulate me on volunteering. None of them have found their ways in life but one, who loves being a fisherman but fears he's not strong enough. I could poke that wound until he was mentally compromised. I could get them all bowing at my feet if I wanted, I'm sure.

I smile at them. They leave.

Then my new friend from work, Quinn, comes in. She squeezes my arm and gives me a warm smile. She's very pretty- I've even considered dating her if she flirts enough to indicate interest. But she's also cowardly and insecure about her appearance and intelligence. She's especially scared of the Capitol and the Peacekeepers.

"You look like a real Career," she gasps. "Pretty. No.. otherworldly." I blush. I'd forgotten my outlandish outfit.

We talk for a little bit, she squeezes my arm again. I smile. She leaves.

Then Mom and Brooklynn come in together.

"Braelynn," Mom says. She looks at Brooklynn, decides it's okay for her to hear, and continues slowly, "I can't say I'm proud of you for volunteering. But… I'm glad for you that you get to… live your dream, I suppose."

"I'm going to come back," I say. "Don't worry about it. I'll make you proud of me- I promise."

Mom just shakes her head with a sigh. Then she gives me a one-armed hug. I'm disappointed, but I know that she is, too. "Take care of my house while I'm gone, OK?" I ask her. She nods.

Brooklynn doesn't look up from filing her nails. She doesn't talk to me. "I'll feed your cat," she says.

"I don't have a cat," I tell her. I wonder if I should bring her down, but I'm feeling nice, and I'm leaving soon anyways.

"Really? I assumed you had transformed into a crazy cat lady, since you live on your own and don't have a boyfriend," Brooklynn says, still not looking up.

"Whatever," I say. Bed response. I no longer care, I find. I give my mom another one-armed hug and bid my family farewell, possibly forever.

Then I lean against the door, waiting for the Peacekeepers to come and take me away. Instead I hear a muffled voice speaking to someone.

Voice: Mmmfphpmhm.

Peacekeeper: Yes.

Voice: Mfphmmmmhm?

Peacekeeper: Five minutes.

Voice: Mmmphgood.

As the voice resolves itself, I stumble backwards. Dameron!

He pushes through the door quickly and doesn't even smile at me. "Hi," I say, a little annoyed.

"You're a great Career. You always got all As in Career classes. Remember that? We were the top in the class together," he says.

"Of course I remember."

"And do you remember when I got involved in the black market?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember the day you sold me the hairpin?"

Yes, I remember. Angry at my mother for fighting with my dad, I had run out of the house with an fake emerald-encrusted hairpin and sold it to Dameron at the black market as a real one. Mom never noticed. She still hasn't.

"Yeah," I say aloud.

Dameron gets out something shiny, puts it on his thumb, and flips it across the room like a coin. I catch it. It's the hairpin. "I can't offer you a refund, but I figured you'd want a token," he explains.

I want to thank him, but that's when the Peacekeepers come in, tell me to stay quiet and take me to the train.

The last thing that I see from District Four is Dameron staring dispassionately after me.

What an accurate picture of this District.

 **A/N: Dameron isn't super important, but he's a key part of Braelynn's past- a part that she's left behind for good. She wasn't happy to see him, but the hairpin was a nice surprise.**

 **Okay, I'm rambling about the chapter that just supposedly ended. Sorry, haha!**

 **Did everyone have a happy holidays? Was I the only one who stayed up until 4 am on New Year's? Haha.**

 **Que tenga un buen dia,**

 **Phannie**


	11. AN: Apology

**A/N: Hello. Long time, no see.**

 **I last updated this story over a year ago now. I have to say, when I took a short break, I didn't expect it to turn into.. well, such a long one.**

 **I figure no one's left on this site who actually read this story the first time around, because the turnover here is really high. But regardless I feel like I owe an explanation, an apology, and a promise to make things better.**

 **I stopped updating around January 2016, for two main reasons. One, quite frankly, was that I got a boyfriend.**

 **Well, that sounds bad. Frankly, I have issues with anxiety and depression and general overwhelming stress, all the time. This story had, for a while, become essentially a way for me to pour out a lot of dark feelings and channel them into something positive and creative. I got validation, and I created something that other people really loved. But when I got a boyfriend, a lot changed in my life. Honestly, he has been such an amazing support and has helped me to make progress past those feeling of anxiety and depression. So I didn't need this story as much to help me.**

 **Secondly, I started serious work on my original novel that has consumed me for years. I had never really written down words for it before, just endless planning. But in January I wrote that first chapter and that story consumed me. It wasn't that I didn't mean to come back to this story and work on it simultaneously as much as that novel, which was wholly my own world and wholly my own set of characters, completely consumed my creative thinking. At the time of writing, I am only about a third of the way done with that book (it's long af).**

 **But you can't just put your soul into one thing for so long without getting burned out, and December 2016 I started writing short stories again, but I had forgotten about this story. I worked less and less on my original novel because I had worked on it too hard and it was difficult to work on it anymore. It was only just this past April that I was able to find a balance with that novel and the whole rest of my life.**

 **Essentially, I'm very sorry that I let go of this story for so long. Life got in the way.**

 **But I'm determined to continue. One of the most important quotes I live by is from my hyper-efficient, business-manager dad: "Always be closing". Don't let anything sit and rot. This story was sitting and rotting away in my mind, even though I had such beautiful strings of ideas for it.**

 **So someday, someday soon, someday this year, you'll get the next chapter. Then the next, then the one after that. Somehow, I am going to finish this story on top of everything else. Don't expect an update schedule; shit's sporadic. But I swear to God I will conclude this story somehow, just like I always meant to.**

 **This doesn't have a chapter; it's just an Author's Note. This is because I work primarily on my school computer and we turn our computers in on Friday. I can't get over my year-long writers' block by Friday. Over summer, you might be able to expect one or two chapters from my shitty desktop, but probably not. The next chapter, in all likelihood, comes in August. Or September. But no matter how late it comes, never fear, because it** ** _will_** **come.**

 **-Phannie**


	12. D4: Thalia Waters

**A/N: I told you I would update again. And look at that- even earlier than I promised. (I can't make any promises about the next chapter, of course, but for right now.. I would seem to be inspired.)**

 **Thalia's... kind of a total creep. It was uncomfortable to write this, tbh. But, she's going to make an amazing wild card in the competition- just writing this made me excited to get to the arena. I honestly don't remember who designed her at this point, but kudos to them!**

 **(Also, mentally, I kept nicknaming her as Thalie, so if any of those slipped in here, please let me know so I can fix that up immediately.)**

 _Thalia Waters, 18, D4_

Today Daddy wakes me up.

"Are you having a good day baby? How about it Valerie?" he says quietly, his voice is all smooth like honey. My name isn't Valerie, but Daddy likes to call me that like a nickname.

"Hey Daddy," I whisper. I make sure to make my voice low and sexy the way he likes and the way everybody likes.

"Today's Reaping day baby," he says, matching my voice.

I wiggle around. I'm lying on top of my bed but when I wiggle like this it's irresistible. Years of Daddy and impressionable fourteen year old girls and horny teenage boys have proven so.

I can still remember a lot of those times, teaching those girls and boys how to be a little less naive, Daddy hitting me everywhere but the face because he wants to keep my face all 'nice and pretty for the Capitol'.

I smile, remembering that want. I point at one scabbed cheek. "I added another one last night," I purr. I already had a scar on the left side of my face, but last night I decided I wanted my face to match on both sides.

Daddy's face hardens and suddenly he's not Daddy anymore, he's Torrent. "Why would you do that, Thalia?" he growls. "Today's Reaping day. What will they think if they see a fresh scar on your cheek?"

I know that when you get to the Capitol they remove all of your scars and other interesting things about your body that aren't sexy. But I don't tell Torrent that. Things are about to get interesting. "Yeah, I was a naughty girl last night!" I chirp, waiting for the beating.

He slaps me once across the cheek and then leaves the room. That's disappointing. I was ready for a smack-down, it would have been fun.

Daddy's been my daddy about as long as I can remember. I have a few memories of living with my mom when I was about six, or eight, or thereabouts. But then she died in a boating accident and luckily, Torrent found me. He toughened me up so I don't mind getting whipped anymore, and he's been my Daddy ever since then.

Daddy makes sure I spend lots of quality time with him training for the Games and sometimes getting whipped, but he also lets me run wild so I could learn how to swim and how to talk to people. Oh, boy do I know how to talk to people. I can get anything that I want whenever I want it.

I roll out of bed luxuriously and stretch my long arms. I know I'm as pretty as a model, tall and skinny and long brown hair, but all Torrent can see anymore is the scars, so he calls me ugly whenever I add a new one. But I still feel pretty when I get up in the mornings. I put on my regular clothes, shorts and a shirt tied up revealing my stomach, and don't even bother to brush my hair because all I want right now is to eat some breakfast and then go for a swim. But before I leave, I have to grab my pebble off of my dresser.

It's the only personal thing I have. When I moved in with Daddy, I chucked all my personal belongings so I would forget about my old mother and father. So all that's in my room is my dresser full of clothing, a broken mirror on the back of the door, my bed with a sheet on it, and my pebble sitting on the dresser.

But the pebble is special, I just know it. It's pretty just like me- all sorts of different colors are in it. Blue, red, white, purple, all swirling through one pebble, and it looks a little bit crazy. It's mesmerizing, and it's all mine. I'm not sure what's special about it yet. But I keep it with me, because I know it's going to be special one day.

I tuck it into my brassiere in between my breasts and head into the kitchen, where Torrent is still fuming, reading a newspaper. He has prepared his own breakfast and there seems to be little food left for mine, which is unfortunate. I don't really have any buying power- when Torrent is paid for his shifty side jobs, he buys more of whatever he thinks we need, which is usually not the same as what I think we need. It's okay- I can charm any cute 16-year-old at market selling their family's goods whenever I need food. I dig through a cupboard and find an opened bag of pretzels, and there's tomato juice in the fridge. I sit down across from Daddy and heartily dig into this breakfast.

"Where are you going, baby?" Daddy says to me, which is the indication that he's no longer really mad at me. I perk up.

"I want to go for a swim before the Reapings!" I say. "Then maybe I'll go to the market for a bit. I don't know."

"A swim?" he frowns. "Don't get your hair wet. Remember you want to look pretty."

"Of course, Daddy," I promise. "I'll pin it up." Then I pause for a moment and take the risk to say what I want to say. "Aren't you going to wish me luck in the Games? You've been toughening me up for them for a long time. You're proud of me, right?"

"Of course I'm proud of you, Valerie," Daddy says gently, setting down his newspaper. "Even if you weren't in the Games I'd still be proud of my baby girl. But I bet you'll get in, right?"

"Right!" I say, smiling wide. Even if he still calls me Valerie, I know I'm better than his daughter Valerie ever was. After all, she died in the Games. I'm going to do better than her.

I finish up my breakfast and head outside into the day. Me and Daddy's house is a little bit outside of town, and it's what a snob would describe as.. well... a hovel. It's a little bit gross sometimes, and there are only like 5 rooms and everything is made of wood and it's all water damaged and it's somewhat hidden by the forest, but there's a charming little path leading up to the front door made of stones, which I happily skip down as I head for town, and the waterfront.

The docks and markets are all set up on beautiful Olive Beach, named after one of the first victors of District Four. I head for an isolated part of the waterfront, where the beach is thin and there's only one dock nearby, strip and dive straight into the water, not caring who may be watching me.

The salty water stings my fresh cut from last night, but I savor the pain and open my eyes to glance through the murky water. That stings, too, but I just smile a little bit and dive deeper to maneuver among the long-dead coral. A few fish are hiding here, where the coral has turned into grayish rock, but for the most part it's just me sliding along the bottom of the ocean, scratching my belly on rough coral.

A minnow passes by me and I smile at him, not bothering to be charming because I don't really need anything from a fish.

The Reapings start in less than an hour, and I realize that my hair is wet. I swim to the surface and shake my head out. Torrent is going to be pissed when he sees me like this- maybe he'll beat me when he's saying his goodbyes after I volunteer. I"m a little excited at the thought, but still, I'd better dry off and put my clothes on before then. It'll take me about fifteen minutes to walk to the town square anyways, so it's a good time to get going. I swim back to shore.

I have to wait for my body to dry off naturally because I didn't bring a towel. One thing I'll miss most while we're waiting in the Capitol- skinny dipping in the ocean. After a long time, my body seems dry enough for me to put my clothes back on, and I put the pebble back into my brassiere as well before heading into town for the Reapings.

People are streaming into the town square and I let myself be swept along by the crowd for a moment, before the people around me realize who I am and try to move away from me. Nobody in town who knows me likes me much- they don't recognize me anymore as orphaned little Thalia Waters, just as Torrent's weird little slut who will tear you down if she feels like it. I've done that to a few people, just for fun, just because I felt like it, but it turns out that making people scared of you makes you a little lonely, too. It's okay though. I have Daddy.

I keep moving and go to the Peacekeeper for check-in. Even though the Reapings don't start for about twenty minutes, I'm definitely in the last quarter or so of people coming in. I let him prick my thumb and then watch as he stares at the screen and my name. Even the Peacekeepers know the story of the orphaned little Waters girl, so my appearance and my name don't seem to be matching up in his tiny little head.

"Um. Age?" he says.

"Eighteen," I tell him, which I'm pretty sure is true. I don't remember when my birthday is anymore because Torrent didn't know when he found me, so we never celebrated it. But I know it's been ten years since he found me, so I've been going by eighteen.

The Peacekeeper puts into the computer, avoiding looking at me, and says nothing more. Whatever, I know how to get to the right section. I push down the cramped aisles, past the middle schoolers and into the eighteens section. Some of my peers are still baby-faced, while others are clearly adults who were born nearly on the cutoff line, already out of school and in the world.

I myself am not babyfaced, but I am still technically supposed to be going to school- not that I ever have. The Peacekeepers know that I don't, but no one's ever cared enough to go after me. I wasn't an exceptional student in school so none of the teachers cared, all of my peers are mostly scared of me and my parents were loners before they died. Once more, my only companions are my Daddy and the boys and girls I can convince to take my clothes off. Not that I mind much- I don't want teachers and annoying queen bees talking my ear off anyways.

I drift off into space as I wait, as I do often, not thinking of much at all, until the crowd starts murmuring. My eyes flit to the stage and I see a beautiful dark-skinned woman wearing bright yellow stroll onto the stage arm in arm with our elderly mayor. She stalks up to the microphone and taps it.

"Hello, everyone! I'm Sunny. How nice to meet you all!" she says, as though she has just met an intimate group of three people and memorized all their names individually. "Ahem. Mayor Angela Stone, everyone!" Scattered applause accompanies Sunny's turn to the mayor, and Mayor Stone steps forward to read the Treaty of Treason.

When the mayor is finished, Sunny turns then to the table on the right, which holds the Reaping ball. She reaches in and I feel my whole body tense up- this is my moment- she pulls out a name. "Angelica Brady," she reads out.

I scream immediately, "Thalia Waters! I volunteer!" before most of the shouting has even started. My voice is scratchy and loud and- Sunny nods.

I don't have to weave far through the crowd to leap directly onto the stage like I've learned how to do from Torrent. I face Sunny for a moment and whip straight around to face the crowd. I look at all the people who were scared of me- they'd better root for me now. I'm one of their champions.

Sunny makes a misapproving cough, and I remember to repeat my name into the microphone, then step back.

While the next tribute is picked, I stand patiently and stilly a few steps back from the mic, ecstatic. I'm in the Games- Torrent is going to be so fucking proud of me! I've finally done what he got me to do- and the only thing I have to do now is win to prove I'm better than Valerie.

Suddenly the crowd goes quiet. I tune back in to what's happening and watch a girl from the eighteens section- not a babyfaced one but a false adult- pull herself onto the stage and wobble on her heels. "Braelynn Etchnet. I volunteer," she says.

She then turns on one of the heels she just wobbled on and faces me, swinging her hand up so quickly for a moment I forget what the gesture means. Then I remember and seize her hand, squeeze it, shake it with all my strength, make eye contact, show her my teeth. Assert dominance.

I stare into her bitchy face. There's blue lipstick swiped hastily over her lips. She looks scared of me.

...good.

As Sunny repeats our names for the crowds to cheer out, the Peacekeepers rush us to the Justice building. I'm stuffed into a room clearly decorated for the Games, with banners reading, "Congratulations, Tribute!" and "Happy Games!"

I know the only person coming to see me is Daddy, so first I take off my brassiere, sighing at the feeling of freedom and relaxation that comes with that. Then I sink into an armchair and relax as I wait for him to make it in.

The first thing Daddy says after he closes the door is "Baby, you got your hair wet."

Some part of me is disappointed that he didn't hit me, another part is almost relieved. "I know. It's okay- it makes me look crazier. I'm going to make _such_ a good Career, Daddy, you don't even know," I tell him.

He smiles wide, and when he does that, his brown eyes crinkle up and he reminds me a little of what I remember of my real father. "I know you are. I'm so glad I picked you out," he says.

"So am I!" I chirp. "But I did make a pretty bad impression on the nation with my wet hair. Aren't you going to punish me?"

Daddy's smile flattens. "And leave a mark for your mentor and the stylists to see?"

"You've got to or I'll keep disobeying you. I know I'm a bad kid," I plead, and this is so bad, this is my worst manipulation but I can't seem to ever make Torrent do what I want.

Miraculously, it works. He slaps me hard across the face and I feel a shock of pleasure. "More!" I say.

A look of disgust crosses his face. Is he disgusted at me for asking for more? Or at himself for hitting me? I don't know, but he says to me, "No more. You do good in the tournament, Valerie. I'm rooting for you." and leaves as quickly as his feet can carry him, leaving my in disappointment.

I pick up the pebble that fell out of my brassiere when I took it off, and relax back into the armchair. The pebble sometimes reminds me a little bit of when I remember my mother's eyes looking like. With all the swirly colors.

I clutch the pebble hard in my hand and let my arm drop to my side. I don't need my mother's eyes. I already have my Daddy.

 **A/N: Oh, Thalia, my darling. You have so much character development yet to do.**

 **This was a rough draft, and kind of short, and the first thing I have written for this story in about 213094983 years, so don't go easy on me, my friends. Rip it apart. I want the next chapter to be up to my usual standards!**

 **As usual, thanks for reading.**

 **-Phannie**


	13. D5: Lyanna Aslett

**A/N: And.. another two chapters in one night! I'm really rolling these out. I was truly inspired, and I've had a lot of time to work recently. Who knows whether the next chapter will come out tomorrow or in three months, but for now, enjoy three new chapters in a week.**

 **I didn't think I'd like Lyanna much, but to be honest, she's a really great character. I can't wait to see her in the arena- and boy, are her interactions with Alys going to be fun. Kudos to her creator!**

 **Enjoy! (And apologies for a chapter significantly longer than usual- there was so much to cover!)**

 _Lyanna Aslett, 15, D5_

I roll over and nuzzle the pillow in frustration as the morning rays of the sun hit my face. The clock hanging at the foot of my bed reads 6:43 AM, and the sun has just crawled over the horizon. Meanwhile, I have not yet gotten to sleep.

I never physically feel anxiety- it just manifests itself, in nausea or shakiness or, in this case, as an inability to fall asleep no matter how hard I try. At almost 7 o'clock, with only about two hours until the Reapings begin, I start to feel a little tired.

Well- too damn late for that. I'll make coffee.

I drag myself physically out of bed and stumble over to my window, throwing the curtains open and wincing at the direct sunlight in my eyes. 5 isn't well-forested, and most houses are relatively low to the ground, and ours is on a hill, and my window faces east. Result: I never need to set an alarm to wake up in the morning.

I stomp down the hall, angry at my awake-ness, and head into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Dad is already up, and he bids me good morning. He wakes up at 5 AM even on weekends by force of habit, since his job at the plant usually goes 7-3. Mom, meanwhile, gets off work at 7, so like me, she has not yet gotten to sleep.

I grab a piece of fruit from our overflowing bowl- since my aunt is hooked up, we never want for food, unlike many families in our district. I make some toast and cut the apple while it cooks, then place the thin slices on the toast to eat with peanut butter and eat that and the remaining parts of the apple, too. I've long known how to prepare good food, since my parents' jobs at the plant often overlap with my home mealtimes.

While I'm eating, Dad makes himself busy around the kitchen as well, making breakfast for my brother, Eddie. At only 5, Eddie not only sleeps in on Reaping Day, he doesn't even get what the Games are yet. He will soon- he's started asking questions about how aunt Alys got to be so rich. But as of now, we've shielded him enough from the Games that he doesn't understand the premise. Eddie is still sleeping, but when his meal is nearly finished and I'm putting my plate in the sink, Dad asks me, "Will you wake up Eddie for his food?"

I nod and tiptoe down the hall, being careful and quiet this time, and stop at Eddie's decorated door. His summer pre-school program has focused on crafts an awful lot, for supposedly being a preparatory course for kindergarten, and he's decorated his door with drawings and construction paper creations and macaroni.. things. I lean gently on the colorful door to open it without creaking, and look into the quiet, dark room.

Eddie is sleeping, safe and sound, in his mattress, which we have not quite yet bought a bed for, since we don't want him to roll off in the night. His blonde hair, which hasn't yet darkened, sweeps over his round little baby face. He's simply adorable. I creep over to the bed and sit next to him. Then, I lean over and press my lips gently to his forehead.

When I lean back, Eddie's eyes are wide open. "Good morning!" he says enthusiastically.

"Hi!" I reply. "Dad has just finished cooking breakfast for you. Are you ready to get up?"

"Yes," he says and sits up. He pauses for a second, then shoos me out of the room. Trying not to laugh at him, I exit cleanly, then move on to my room, where I can get dressed for the day.

The Reaping demands formal clothes, and I do indeed have some pretty dresses. As I said before, life is easy when the Capitol gives your aunt a lifetime supply of whatever-she-asks-for. But they all seem so... sparkly, for such an awful occasion.

Very few people in Five support the Games, but almost no one is openly critical of them, either. Because we've seen how small the population is in districts like Twelve and Eleven, where they openly seethe at the Games, and we don't want to end up like them. Twelve is screwed over- but Five knows how to keep our heads down, so we never seem to have to worry about Peacekeepers.

Still, I don't want to dress up and pretend like everything is okay. I did the first two years that I was eligible, but even last year, a terrified little freshman, I put on a gray dress and refused to celebrate. But this year, I want to protest even more than that.

In the back of my closet, a flattering, but conservative black dress. I've only ever worn it to funerals. Mourning clothes.

That's right. Mourning for all the lives that this reaping has mercilessly taken. Mourning clothes sounds about right. I put on the black dress and matching shoes and gloves.

With my hair and chin up, I look like a snotty young heiress at some rich grandmother's funeral, so I intentionally leave it down, showcasing my split ends. I'm no heiress- just a kid from Five.

I head back down the hall towards the kitchen, where Eddie is now munching on pancakes and fruit that my dad made for him. Dad himself is turning on the TV to watch the news as he does every morning, but he frowns as he flips through the channels.

"It's Reaping Day, Dad," I remind him gently. "It's all going to be pre-Reaping commentary like that."

"That's right, of course," he says. He turns to look at me standing in the doorway. "You look ready to go. Are you going to your aunt's house before the Reaping?"

I nod. "Yes, and I wanted to meet up with Ampelle and Tesla in the town square afterwards. Is that okay?"

Dad smiles. "Yes, it's okay. But take your bike- you don't want to be late or anything."

"Okay! Thanks," I say, and smile wide at Dad and Eddie before heading out the front door. My bike is perched on the front doorstep, leaning against the house, and I roll it down to street level before hopping on and starting towards the edge of town. It takes a good ten minutes to get to my aunt's house in Victor's Village.

The Village is dusty and unkempt, as usual, because no one lives in it but my aunt. She resides in the largest and most beautiful home at the end of the drive, which dominates over the others. It's a real mansion, but Aunt Alys never cleans it- she's never even used half the rooms. She used to hire a full staff of maids, cooks, and other assistants to keep the house clean and well-maintained, but she hated the company.

The only people Alys can stand to be around are me and my family. Everyone else is too much for her. Even showing up to the Reapings every year is nearly unbearable to her.

I walk up the beautiful, but cracked stone road up to the house, and knock gently on the door. The paint is starting to peel off- I'll have to convince her to take care of that soon.

Aunt Alys opens the door quickly, she was probably waiting for me. As usual, I have to stop for a moment to admire her otherworldly beauty. She has long, soft brown hair, mossy green eyes, full red lips, and an angular face with prominent cheekbones and a pointed chin. She truly looks like a queen- I didn't seem to inherit much from her, but she keeps telling me I'm only 15 and I'll grow into myself eventually.

"Good morning, Aunt Alys," I say cheerfully. Her eyes drop disapprovingly to my clothing.

"Mourning clothes, Lyanna? On Reaping Day? It's supposed to be a day of celebration," she tells me.

"I know it is. That's part of why I chose mourning clothes," I tell her. "May I come in?"

With a heavy sigh, my aunt moves back from the doorway and allows me to enter her home. "You don't want to be like me, Lyanna. This sort of protesting is the opposite of what you want to be doing if you want a good life in the District."

I shake my head without looking at her, and walk into the sitting room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows facing out onto the pool in her yard. I learned to swim here, as well as to paint and draw- my aunt's been as much a parent to me as my actual parents.

"But I can't just sit here and do nothing while they hand my friends and neighbors death sentences," I say. "This is my only rebellion."

"I think it's just your rule-breaking nature," Alys teases. She's in the kitchen now, which is really in the same large room as the sitting room I'm in. She takes a sip out of a mug and I suddenly remember I didn't get any coffee before I left the house.

"Is that coffee?" I say. Alys nods. "May I have some?" With another affirmation from my aunt, I rise and join her in the kitchen, pouring myself a full mug of coffee and drinking heavily from it.

"Tired, are we?" Alys says gently.

"I didn't sleep at all last night," I admit. "I didn't _feel_ worried, but I was anyways, even if I couldn't feel it." My aunt's pained, sympathetic look tells me she understands exactly what I mean. I look away from her and stare down into the mug of coffee, now half-drained.

I wonder for a moment if now is the time to discuss the secret I found in her closet a month ago- the one I've been waiting to confront her about- but then my eyes catch on the digital clock embedded in the counter. It's 7:30- my aunt will be collected for the Reaping in just fifteen minutes, and I have to leave before then. I don't want to start a long, emotional discussion right now.

Instead, I look up brightly. "I got into the art class for next year in school," I tell her. Our District has just experimentally started offering an art class- solely for recreation, of course, as there's no way to make a career out of art in Five. I've always loved to draw and paint since my aunt taught me how, and this art class will mean I have dedicated time and resources to do it.

Alys brightens too. "That's wonderful! Well, if you need someplace to do your homework, you know you always have access to the studio upstairs."

I smile wide. "Thank you, Aunt Alys."

Her eyes catch on the clock and the half-smile drops off her face. "Oh, no," she says. "You can stay for a bit longer, Lyanna, but I don't want you to be around here when the escort comes to get me for the reaping.."

"Yeah, of course," I say, but I follow Alys down the hall to the bathroom and watch while she picks up her scarf from the counter and starts wrapping it around her head. My aunt never shows her beauty in public- since the Capitol made her spend six social seasons performing as a sex symbol, she's hated her looks and what they represent to her, so she always hides her face. Still, even when only her eyes and eyebrows are visible, you can tell that she's a beautiful woman.

"I'll see you at the Reapings," I say.

"I'll see you, sweetheart," Alys says, and turns around with her scarf still half-wrapped to hug me. I'm the only person she touches, which makes her hugs feel all the more sweet and intimate. When she steps back and turns to the mirror, I make my way to the door and get on my bike to leave.

For a minute, I have to doubt myself for not bringing up what I found in her closet last month. Because this is the last time I'll see her for quite a while- she'll be in the Capitol through the Games season, and who knows if they might make her stay for the social season as well. They didn't the past two years, but they might again at any time- she's still young. It's entirely possible that the next time I see Alys won't be until next spring- and then, it might even be too late to confront her about her secret.

But then I catch sight of the escort's car rolling through the Victor's Village gate, and I start biking as fast as I can away from my aunt's house, towards the gate and into town, putting all thoughts of my aunt's secret out of my mind.

By the time I make it into the town square, a Peacekeeper has just hurried out from the Justice building to begin registration. An assembled crowd begins to filter in slowly through the single entrance, but two people stand off to the side of the quickly-forming line: it's my two best friends, Tesla and Ampelle.

I roll over to them and hop off my bike with a cheeky smile, letting it clatter to the ground and startle them. "Good morning!" I exclaim.

Tesla rolls her eyes at me. "Good morning, Lyanna," she says. This sort of reaction is the norm for her, so I don't mind the lack of enthusiasm.

Ampelle, however, seemed to jump a full foot in the air, her red hair bouncing along with her in a full fuzzy halo around her face. "Woah, Lyanna! You scared me!"

I smile wide. "I know!" Ampelle just grins and rolls her eyes at me as well. "Sorry I'm a little late, I was coming from my aunt's house," I explain.

"It's okay," Tesla says, but she looks a little wistfully at the buildings around us. Normally all businesses in Five are open through the night for factory workers on weird shifts, but they've all closed just as I arrived, in preparation for the Reaping. We had planned on going into a cafe before the Reaping, but it's too late for that now.

Instead, we walk over to some benches under a decorative tree and sit there. Ampelle starts telling a story about somebody she saw at the market the other day, but I can't force myself to pay attention to her story. I stare at the reaping crowd, unable to look away.

Ampelle shakes my shoulder and shake me out of my daze. "Lyanna. Are you okay?"

I smile wide again. "Yeah, just a little out of it, sorry. I couldn't get to sleep last night."

Tesla and Ampelle both give me sympathetic looks. Ampelle turns back to Tesla for a moment. "Anyways, in the end they stopped bothering me, so I guess it's fine. I'm glad I didn't hit them or anything, anyways."

"Yes, it's good you're getting a handle on your temper when you're at work nowadays," Tesla says calmly.

"Wait. What happened?" I say.

Ampelle grimaces. "Just- Xander and his girlfriend, the seniors, came over to my family's stall at the market and started harassing me, like- telling me I was going to be reaped just like- um."

I wince at the words coming out of her mouth. Ampelle's older brother was reaped and died in the bloodbath two years ago- and she's gotten a lot of flak for it since then from older kids at school, who like to call her a weakling. Her family's certainly not well-liked around town, since they work as bakers and florists instead of at the plant, but Ampelle has gotten the worst of it since her brother died.

"What assholes," I say. I feel a surge of anger rush through me and stand up to face my friends. "I should teach them a lesson when we get out of the Reapings. No one messes with my friends like that."

"Don't be an idiot," Tesla says sharply. "They're older and bigger than you, and besides, you can't afford to start another fight if you're trying to stay on the Peacekeeper's good side."

I sigh and sit back down. Tesla is right. "Yeah, okay, fine. But still- they're assholes."

"Definitely," Ampelle agrees.

"It's- whatever. Hey, what time is it?" I say.

All three of us glance up at the big clock on top of the Justice Building. Eight-thirty. Without needing to talk about it beforehand, we all stand and get in line for the Reaping.

Our chatter dies down as we move towards the Peacekeeper. No one wants to talk about anything cheerful on Reaping Day, and no one much wants to talk about the Reaping, either.

Ampelle goes in before me, and makes her way to the fourteens section. Me and Tesla will be separated from her, because her birthday isn't for another month. Tesla squeezes my hand gently from behind me, and I step up.

I hold out my hand to the Peacekeeper and notice it's shaking. Funny, how I felt so magically disconnected until I notice that- now I am sharply aware of the anxiety flooding my body, even if it doesn't quite feel like mine.

"Age," the Peacekeeper repeats, and I snap out of it again.

"Sorry. Fifteen," I say. He nods and I make my way down the aisle of people. Some of the younger ones are talking among themselves flippantly, not caring about the nature of this event. And some of the adults in the eighteens section look bored. But everyone in my section- the fifteens- knows what the Reaping means, and none of us is talking or smiling.

Tesla joins me in a moment, and stands close to me so she doesn't have to touch anyone else. The brush of her shoulder against mine is reassuring. I scan the stage and see my aunt on a folding chair in the corner- the designated spot for victors, except that my aunt is the only Five victor left alive right now.

We stand for what feels simultaneously like an eternity and a second, until an escort and the mayor walk out onto the stage. The escort is a petite woman with long black hair and black eyes, wearing all forest-green clothing and makeup. She smiles and speaks into the microphone: "Good morning, District Five!" then waits expectantly.

We chorus, "Good morning," as we have since we were children. We know from Reaping coverage that no other District does this- it's just Five. But we do it anyways out of habit.

"My name is Fern," the escort says cheerfully. Last year her name was Lady- the year before, Birdie. It changes all the time.

Fern steps back and allows the mayor, a frail old man, to read the Treaty of Treason in his shaking tone. She then pushes him gently back and steps forward once more, now holding the reaping ball.

She reaches in, digs around with her hand, and pulls out a slip of paper. To read it, she sets the reaping ball down and unfolds it.

Then something strange happens. She seems hardly to even glance at the name on the paper before she throws it over her shoulder and says excitedly, "Our first tribute is Lyanna Aslett! Come up, Lyanna!"

Any thoughts I had about her strange behavior dissipate immediately. Somebody's screaming- and then I realize it's me, I don't even have control over myself anymore, I slap my hand over my own mouth to cut off my scream and start walking to the stage, breathing heavily. My face feels wet, and then I realize I must be crying. The tears are streaming down my face but I don't feel any sobs, and I simply wipe them off with the back of my hand, standing steadily on the stage, feeling almost strangely calm.

I glance over at Alys, but she won't look at me. We both know I've been handed a death sentence.

I stand patiently while Fern picks up the reaping ball again, digs out another name, sets the ball down, and actually reads the name this time. "Rose Tanaka," she reads into the microphone.

The crowd parts for Rose, who comes up from the fourteens section. She, too, is crying, but her face seems completely hard. Angry, almost. She has the same almond-shaped eyes Fern has, except unlike Fern, there's no chance they're a Capitol modification.

"Don't cry, you two," Fern hisses to us, and then she turns back to the microphone, smiling widely. "District Five, your tributes for the Hundredth Games!"

I turn to Rose and hold out my hand for her to shake, still feeling numb. She doesn't meet my eyes as she gives me a very limp handshake, and we both turn away from each other, hugging our arms, as the Peacekeepers come up to usher us away.

The room they put me in is damp, filled with exactly one furnishing- a couch. I sit down and wait for my family and friends to come in.

Tesla and Ampelle make it in first. They don't say anything to greet me, just stand there until I pat the space on the couch next to me.

"I'm so sorry, Lyanna," Tesla finally says to break the silence. She puts her hand on mine and squeezes again, like she did during the reaping.

At Tesla's words, Ampelle leaps off the couch and stops on the rug. "It's so unfair!" she shouts. "This is unbelievable! I mean, what are the odds that- your family has to lose two people to the Reapings in ten years- and I have to lose my best friend two years after my brother- this is ridiculous! There's enough people in District Five that this never should have happened!"

"It shouldn't have, but it has," Tesla snaps.

"No, she's right. This is ridiculous," I interject. "I hate this fucking system- it really is unbelievable."

Tesla sighs and puts her face in her hand, her long brown hair falling around her hands. "Lyanna, please, don't do anything stupid. Please."

"Why shouldn't I? I'm just going to die anyways," I say, and then I see Tesla and Ampelle's stricken faces. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I just... this is kind of my big chance to say, 'fuck you' to the Capitol with no consequences. Cause if they kill me for it.. so what? I've been handed a death sentence anyways. So I'm going to take it. Somehow, at some point."

Ampelle nods, biting her lip. Tesla won't look up, but I grab her shoulder. "Come on, guys. Come on."

They both hug me, hard. We never normally touch, so it's a little weird, but it's nice anyways, and I nestle my head on both their shoulders before letting them go.

They turn around and don't look back as they exit. I sit down again. There's a scream from the other room and very briefly I wonder if Rose is okay.

My family comes in a few minutes later, minus Alys. She won't come in to say goodbye because she's going to have plenty of me for the next few weeks.

My mom rushes over to me, already sobbing, and clutches me to her. When she lets go of me, she sinks onto the couch, and I pick up Eddie next. He seems confused, but before he gets a chance to speak, my dad starts.

"Lyanna, you have been a wonderful daughter.. always helpful, always kind. It has been an honor to raise you and- we're going to miss you a lot," Dad says. I look up at him, but he won't make eye contact with me.

"Dad. Please, look at me. Give me a real goodbye," I say, and he looks at me and breaks, stepping forward to clutch me in his arms as well. Mom stands up to hug all three of us, and then we're hugging as a family, all crying.

When Mom and Dad step back, Eddie looks even more confused. "Why is everyone so sad?" he says.

I look at Mom, but she's at a loss for words. "I.. My name just got called at the Reaping. That means I'm going to be in the Hunger Games. You've seen the Hunger Games, right? There's only one winner, and everyone else... never comes home."

Eddie's face is ashen. "Oh," he says very quietly. This sparks a fresh round of tears from my mom.

The Peacekeepers step into the room. "Not to interrupt, but we really need to get going. We're on a tight schedule here," one says.

"Of course," my father says, and he takes Eddie out of my arms and sets him down. My whole family begins to walk to the door, escorted by Peacekeepers, and I watch them walk out, still distraught.

Then Eddie shouts. "Wait!" he says, and he starts to struggle against the Peacekeeper's arms. He's too little and wiggly for them to keep a good grasp on, and he makes it away from them and runs to me. I kneel down to meet him.

"What is it, Eddie?" I ask.

He produces a macaroni necklace from the front pocket of his overalls. "I made this for you in school yesterday. I was gonna give it to you at lunch but... now you might not come home."

My eyes fill with tears at the thought that my five-year-old brother now has to understand the Games. I lean my head down for him to bestow the necklace upon me. "Oh, Eddie," I manage to say, and I pull him to me for another hug.

I keep holding onto him, until the Peacekeepers pull him away.

 **A/N: I hope you guys really like Lyanna, because Rose definitely will be highlighting her flaws. A lot.**

 **Speaking of Rose Tanaka, she's up next, so I'd like to take this moment to apologize to her creator for changing her name not once, but twice. After it was changed to Alice, I realized that the mentor for this district is Aunt Alys, which is pronounced the same, and that would have been way too confusing for my taste... so, I did some research to find a name that kept both the spirit of her original name and fit her personality and heritage. Result: Rose Tanaka!**

 **Onward!**


	14. D5: Rose Tanaka

**A/N: Not much to say about this one. Still stunned I did two chapters in one night (and started work on the third), but of course it helps that this one is pretty short.**

 **Enjoy!**

 _Rose Tanaka, 14, D5_

When the sun rises, I've already been up for ages, cooking to feed myself and my father. Eggs, rice, vegetables, everything goes into the pot as I make a rice mix that can feed us for days, until I get ahold of some more food.

I don't wake my father when the food is finished. I simply put one of the eggs, which is cooked sunny-side up, on top of a ball of rice and veggies inside a bowl and begin to eat my meal, sitting on the floor of the decrepit kitchen.

I don't know when Father will wake up today. Last year, he didn't manage to get up until after the Reapings. The Peacekeepers came after him, beating him mercilessly, and I hid in the shed.

In fact, it's hard to know when he'll wake up most days. He doesn't hold down a steady job, although sometimes he's hired for casual work at the plant or by local businesses. More often our money comes from the salary my uncle, Kobe, makes at the plant, or from selling the vegetables I grow. Father usually spends about half of our income on drink, and the rest I steal away and hide in my sock drawer, taking it out as infrequently as possible, and only to pay for necessities like food.

Mother taught me how to garden, and how to budget money, and how to shop only for staples like rice and potatoes and eggs, before she left. It was the only good thing she did for me.

After I am finished eating, I take the bowl around back to a water pump and quietly wash it off, before replacing it in the kitchen. I then creep past my father's room into mine.

My room contains my bed, dresser, a bookshelf, and a mirror. That's all I have, since we have little money for other luxuries. I do have quite a few clothes, because I inherited everything from my mother when she died. Mother used to wear elegant blacks and browns, which is unfortunate for me, because I prefer simple colors like blue and yellow.

Not, of course, that I can wear the clothes I like to wear on Reaping day anyways- we have to dress formally. I open my drawers and find one of Mother's elegant black dresses, with no sleeves and a white collar and buttons. This will be fine for the Reaping- I put it on along with long white socks and some brown penny loafers.

I glance at the bracelet sitting on top of my dresser- it's silver with a gold moon charm. It's the last thing that my mother ever gave to me before she betrayed me and left me. I.. I hate her memory, but at the same time, it's difficult to leave all that's left of her sitting on the dresser when I go out to possibly receive a death sentence.

I seize the bracelet and struggle to clasp it on. Then I turn to look at myself in the mirror. I look nothing like Mother- she was a tall, freckled redhead, and very skinny. I am none of those things.

I walk back to the kitchen and there encounter my father, who has managed to drag himself out of bed and put on a buttoned-up shirt for the Reaping. "Good morning, Rose," he says. I ignore him completely.

His eyes narrow. "Don't be a bitch to your father, Rose. I know it's in your nature, but you could at least make an effort for family," he says. As I pass him to go to the back door, he reaches out and grabs my arm. I shrink away.

"Don't touch me," I snap. I absolutely hate it when people touch me, especially when they don't ask.

To myself, I think that my father could at least make an effort for family. He could get a real job so I don't have to make all the money in the house. But instead of saying these things, I go into the garden and stand among my vegetables.

Our back garden opens onto a wide stream, where I learned how to swim when I was younger, and which also gave me an opportunity to learn how to run fast back home. Our house is very elegant and we own a lot of land. Back before Mother left, when he was still kind to me, Father used to tell me about his mother, who told him all about how the house had existed since before District Five had existed. We, as the Tanakas, used to be one of the oldest, wealthiest, and most respectable families in Five. But nowadays, thanks to Father and Kobe, we're known as the name of the town drunk's dysfunctional family.

I have the last bit of respectability in the Tanaka family. But as I stare at the stream, I'm thinking that I too am not really respectable at all- I'm halfway an orphan, a loner, a cynical fourteen-year-old who bad-mouths her father and her uncle. I don't really have any friends.

I do have my vegetables, though. Close enough. I water the garden in my formal clothes, and when I'm satisfied that the garden is okay for the day, I wash my hands at the pump and go back into the house.

My father still sits in the kitchen, now eating a rice ball and egg that I prepared this morning. "Your uncle Kobe is coming over to escort us to the Reaping, Rose. Be on your best behavior." 

I recoil. "Kobe is coming?" I say.

"Yes. So be on your best behavior. He told me how flippant you were a few days ago when I left-" my father begins gruffly. I can't listen to this. I leave the room as quickly as I can, and exit out the front door this time.

I start walking towards town, down the hill. I don't want to talk to Kobe at all, and if that means leaving home far too early, so be it. I walk along the side of the road so I can hide in the bushes if necessary to hide away from Kobe.

As I walk down to the town, I start to wonder whether maybe it would be easier to avoid Kobe, to avoid my father, to avoid all this pain if I just left the same way my mother did. It would be easy- I could jump in the stream, or off a roof, or eat one of the berries I'm allergic to. But no- Mother betrayed me when she chose to leave. I can't do the same thing, even if I have nothing left to live for.

The hill grows steeper, and I start to run down to keep my balance. I'm a fast runner at short distances, and I watch the landscape of scrubby bushes and rocks flash past me as more and more buildings start to crop up. By the time I'm too tired to keep running, I'm officially in town. I go to the square, but I am here far too early to check in for the Reapings, so instead I go to the marketplace a few streets over.

Very few vendors are open this close to the Reaping, but I see a few items I might need anyways- the bakers are selling bread for much less than usual, and there are some textbooks I'll need for the upcoming school year available as well for much less than the price the school sells them for. After the Reaping, I can sneak back into the house, take some of our money and bring it down here to purchase these items.

A few kids from school are also hanging out in the market, but they give me strange looks and I ignore them. I don't have any friends at school, but it's by choice. I don't want to spend lots of my time talking to other people about nothing, and that's all anyone seems to talk about at school: who slept with who, who's parents just lost their job, what grade someone got on a test. Nothing at all. I've never much cared about grades or about sex, and job talk hits a bit too close to home, so I'd never be able to carry on a conversation anyways.

One of the kids calls out to me. "Hey, Rose!" For a second I think it's going to be somewhat friendly, as there are still people that try to befriend me. Then I see who it is- that senior Xander. "Yeah, I'm talking to you! Why are you out so early? Was your drunk dad hitting you again? Or did you just stop wanting to look at your weird little face in the mirror?"

I ignore him forcefully. Xander just likes to get on people's nerves. When I don't react to him, he pulls his eyelids back to try to imitate my eyes, but I leave the market, not wanting to deal with him anymore.

I go back to the Reaping, which has thankfully opened for registration. A line has quickly formed. On stage, the escort is clearly visible lecturing our resident victor about something. I get in the line and stand quietly behind a pair of twelve year olds, who are chatting about their friends birthday party as though they aren't about to walk into the Reaping.

When the Peacekeeper gets to me, he gives me a strange look and grabs my arm roughly to take my blood. "Age?" he says.

"14," I reply, and he shoos me away and moves on to the next person in line.

I walk up the thin aisle, shrinking away from the arms that are brushing me on either side. The Reaping is hell for me, since I hate being touched, but luckily the roped-off section marked '14' isn't too full yet.

As people start filing into their sections, I am careful to stand in the corner where no one will want to come stand by me, and I observe the action on stage. Our victor, Alys Aslett, wears a headscarf covering most of her face, and seems to be staring dispassionately into the distance as the escort gets more and more agitated with her. Finally, the escort seems to give up and march offstage.

With the excitement onstage gone, I want to watch the people around me, but at least in my section nearly everyone seems properly terrified, and not talking at all. The section quickly fills in as the time nears for the Reaping to begin.

Soon, the escort and the mayor both walk back out onstage. The escort, a petite woman who looks a bit like me, says, "Good morning District Five!" into the microphone.

Mindlessly, the people around me chant, "Good morning" like robots or something. I say nothing.

"My name is Fern," the escort says. Her name clearly goes with her color scheme- a dark forest green.

She steps back and the mayor reads his customary speech and the Treaty of Treason. He is frail- he'll die any time now, and who knows who will be the next mayor? Not that it affects my own life very much.

Fern then pushes the mayor away and steps forward again with the Reaping ball. She grabs a slip and sets down the ball to unfold it.

Then, without reading the paper at all, she tosses it carelessly over her shoulder. "Our first tribute is Lyanna Aslett! Come up, Lyanna!"

A scream echoes through the crowd, which parts quickly around Lyanna as she makes her way through the stage. I recognize her from school. She's got quite a temper, and she's often as scathing and mean as Xander. I wouldn't relish being the tribute picked to fight alongside her. She looks at the victor- her aunt. She must be wishing that privilege could get her out of this. I roll my eyes at the ignorance.

Fern picks up the Reaping ball once more, digs out another name, sets down the ball, and this time, actually reads the slip of paper. And into the microphone she says-

"Rose Tanaka."

The crowd parts. I make my way through them. At least now I don't have to touch anyone.

My face is hardened, but I still feel tears leak from my eyes. I suppose I'm now the tribute picked to fight alongside Lyanna. But even though I'm crying, I stop for a moment on the stairs to reflect- I don't feel anything at all inside. This doesn't matter to me. After all, I have nothing to live for.

I finish the stairs and stand next to Lyanna. Fern hisses at as not to cry and turns back to the microphone to finish the ceremony. Lyanna turns to me. She has brown hair and a strong jaw, and pretty pink lips, looking just like the miniature version of her sex-symbol aunt. She holds out her hand for me to shake and I do so halfheartedly, not bothering to meet her eyes.

The Peacekeepers take us away.

They put me in a damp room in the Justice Building, and as I wait, I hear Lyanna and one of her friends start to yell and shout about how unfair all this is. I feel nothing.

There's a knock on the door, and my father opens it. Kobe is behind him.

I freeze for a moment as Father starts to come in, and then I scream for the Peacekeepers, who make their way in immediately. My father and Kobe look so confused at this. "What is it, ma'am?" the Peacekeeper says.

"Take them away. I don't want to see them," I say, looking dead into Father's eyes. He glances away, looking.. almost ashamed. I wonder if I should talk to him, only remove Kobe, but no, then he would ask why I wanted only Kobe gone, and.. it's too much.

"With all due respect, ma'am, these are the only two visitors on your list. Are you sure you want them to leave?" the Peacekeeper says.

"Yes!" I shout. "Get them out of here." My uncle is just confused, but Father, clearly drunk, is getting angry about the situation. The Peacekeeper escorts them out while my father argues with her. I sink back onto the couch.

Mindlessly, I start playing with the bracelet Mother gave to me. I have absolutely nothing to live for.

...but, I have absolutely nothing to die for, either. So I shall win.

 **A/N: We're getting really close to halfway through the Reapings! To be honest, that's a really big accomplishment, especially for an SYOT.**

 **Tbh, I'm not in love with Rose, which unfortunately shows a bit in the writing. She'll make a great arena wild card, though.**

 **Up next, District Six! It features both Acadia Marano and Lilac Sum, but even though Acadia is listed first, I think I might start with Lilac. She is, put simply, a darling.**

 **Happy days and, as usual, thanks for reading.**

 **-Phannie**


	15. D6: Lilac Sum

**A/N: Finally, another chapter. My brain has been in quite the Mood lately, so the writing of this chapter was spread over a matter of many days. However, it is luckily quite finished now, if possibly a little rough.**

 **Lilac is a character drawn in broad strokes, with just a few driving traits to her personality. I hope I captured those accurately enough. Kudos to her creator, whoever you are, and happy reading.**

 _Lilac Sum, 13, D6_

I wake up far too early, when Kial wriggles out from beneath my arm and leaves the room. He's only five, and I had already felt him kicking and squirming- he must have had a bad dream and left to sleep with our parents.

I snuggle further under the warm quilt and stare at the wooden ceiling of our home. Otto is still snoring under my other arm. He's probably going to get his own bed soon- he's just old enough that the bed is getting cramped with two of us, even if I'm a little small for my age.

I try to close my eyes and get back to sleep, but it's no use. I had a hard time getting to bed anyways, and now that Kial has woken me, there's no way I'm going to fall asleep again. As quietly as possible, I lift my arm off of Otto and sit up, stretching. I then lean off the bed, and wince when a floorboard creaks beneath my feet.

"Huzzhh?" Otto says, rolling over.

"Be still, it's just me," I whisper. Otto doesn't move again, so he must be satisfied with this answer. I stand and go to the closet.

I take out my usual Reaping dress- a brown baglike thing that ends at my knees- and put it on quickly. As usual, it's none too flattering, but I can hardly ask Mother to buy me a new one when she has to manage the money and feed three children. I twirl in a circle, hoping to look a little glamorous, but nothing comes of it. With a disappointed sigh, I comb my hair and twist it into a bun.

Last night, Mother prepared breakfast sandwiches for our family to eat this morning so no one would have to get up early and cook. I take mine from the shelf and go and sit outside, on the stoop, to eat.

The sandwich is made from a loaf of bread we bought a few days ago, along with an egg, mayonnaise, and some chicken. Pork is common for breakfast in our District, but since our neighbors raise chickens, we usually buy from them instead of spending big money on pork. The sandwich is sort of bready and dry, but I eat fast anyways. I didn't eat much for dinner, and I'm going to need a full stomach to make it through the day today.

After I'm finished eating, I suck the mayonnaise off my fingers, then jump up with a start as the front door hits my back. "Lilac? Is that you? I didn't mean to scare you, honey, I was just looking for you," comes my mother's quiet voice.

I turn around with a smile. "It's okay. Here I am!"

Mom stands leaning against the doorframe and gives me a wide smile. I think she's beautiful. She has wispy red hair, gray eyes, and a certain weariness that has settled into her face in the form of dust and wrinkles. But she still is pretty as an angel. Today, she's wearing a faded brick-red housedress with a once-white apron over it.

My youngest brother, Kial, sits on her hip. He's almost too big to carry now, but for this moment she's holding him close to her side. He looks a little sleepy as of yet, and he's still dressed in his raggedy pajamas, because Mom hasn't helped him to dress yet.

"Would you mind waking up Otto and getting him his food?" Mom asks me.

"Okay. Where's Dad?" I say.

"He's still asleep. I didn't want to wake him after a few weeks on the line tuckered him out so much," Mom says, and she places a finger to her lips to signal I should keep quiet so Dad can sleep.

I nod and follow her inside, taking care to shut the paper-thin door very gently so as not to make a loud noise. I creep down the hall and back into my room, where Otto is lying facedown in the mattress, still asleep.

I walk to him and roll him over in the bed. With a start, I realized that his face is wet with tears, and he looks terrified as he opens his eyes blearily. "Otto? Are you okay?" I ask.

Otto bites his lip and looks away from me for a moment like he doesn't want to answer me. He stares out the window for just a moment too long, then shakes his head.

"What happened?" I ask.

"I... I had a bad dream. About the Games.. I was dreaming that I was Reaped, and they put me into the Games without any training first, and..." he trails off, not needing to tell me the ending for me to know what happened.

My eyes well with tears. Otto is only eight, but he has already seen people he knows enter the Games. He usually spends Games season roughhousing and playing games to distract himself, but at night, when the TV is on, there's no escaping the coverage. I would never say it aloud, but I think it's horribly unfair that my little brother has to be so scared of death at such a young age.

But aloud, I don't say a word of this. Instead, I say, "Oh, Otto. You have nothing to worry about. The Capitol isn't going to pick you for the Games- you're too young, and we're not going to let you take out any tesserae when you're older."

"Well.. today, I have nothing to worry about, but what about when I'm eighteen? Even without tesserae eighteen-year-olds go- Abi Mendle went last year and she only had seven entries," Otto says tearfully. He looks as though he's about to bury his face in the mattress again, but I catch him and put my hands on his shoulders.

"Otto, look at me. Because a girl with no tesserae went last year, that means your chances are that much better. That's a once-in-a-lifetime type of Reaping," I say firmly. "The odds are well in your favor."

Otto wipes his eyes and face with his sleeve and says, "I guess."

"Are you ready for breakfast?" I say with grim determination. I must get Otto up and moving, so he can find his way back to his usual fun, hyper attitude.

"I guess," Otto repeats, and with that, I lead him to the kitchen and give him his breakfast sandwich off the shelf he can't reach. Otto thanks me and sits to eat in our family room, no longer crying but still looking upset.

Mom is still in the kitchen, and I rejoin her there. Kial is still on her hip as she finishes putting together a simple cloth baggie. She turns to me and holds it out. "Lilac, I know you weren't planning on going to the apothecary this morning, but would you mind taking this bad down for them? Since they lost their baby, I know they've had a rough time, and Reapings are especially bad for everyone," she says.

"Of course," I say, "I'll be back before we leave for the Reaping."

"Be careful," my mother calls out the door as I leave. She does this every time I exit the house, even though I'm thirteen now. Mom is quite overprotective of me and my brothers, because she lost her own brother when they were both children. I know I'll never convince her to leave me alone, but it's better to have a mother who is overprotective than a mother who doesn't care, like the poor children in the community home.

The apothecary sits nestled in between two tall, strong oak trees, just behind the town square, and over the past two years, it has become just as much a home to me as my own household has been to me. Ever since I was Otto's age I've known that I wanted to become the next healer, and because the apothecary's son doesn't want to be a healer, Mr. Scapula took me as his apprentice.

Mr. Scapula was plenty polite to me, but distant and formal, as was his wife. However, his son, Chamomile, nicknamed Cam, took a liking to me, and soon I began staying after my formal work time to spend time with Cam. Cam Scapula has now become my best friend.

I blink several times to clear my head and stop reminiscing- I have been standing just outside the house's gate for several minutes now. I open the gate and walk through the herbs that I keep well-weeded and trimmed, which is the main part of my job as an apothecary's apprentice so young.

As I come up to the house, a Peacekeeper, shuffling with a noticeable limp, comes out of the house. As he walks past me to leave, he shoots me a suspicious, even hostile look, and I veer away from him without even thinking about it.

I hate Peacekeepers, and I'm terrified of them, too, ever since I've seen the sort of things they're capable of. I can't even walk past one without thinking he's going to give me a concussion.

I put the Peacekeeper out of my mind and knock on the door. Within a few moments, Cam opens it. He's barely taller than me with unusually dark hair for Six, and bright blue eyes. Being the apothecary's son, he's well-fed, so most days he looks as pretty as any young Capitol boy.

I hold out the baggie I've been clutching. "A gift to your family, from my mother," I say. I don't need to explain to Cam for him to understand that the gift is to help them recover from the loss of yet another baby.

He opens the bag and inside I see what my mother has packed for his family: a roll of cloth, which my family is never short on because we have so many quilts inherited from my grandparents. Three candles, which the Scapulas always need since their house has no electricity. Two eggs and some neatly sliced chicken meat, which will feed the family as Mrs. Scapula recovers. I admire my mother's thoughtfulness for a moment.

"Mind if I come inside?" I say. I have to be back at my house soon, but it won't hurt to chat with my friend for a moment.

"Of course, you're always welcome," Cam says. His face goes a bit pink as I step inside, and he says, "I think your makes you look pretty today- I mean, it looks nice."

I smile at the warm compliment. Cam is always thoughtful and knows just what to say to make you feel good. "Thank you, Cam," I say, and he nods, fidgeting. After a moment, he leads me to their family's kitchen, which is abandoned as of yet.

"Aren't your parents awake?" I say, puzzled.

"They are," Cam confirms. His combed-up black hair falls over his eyes and he brushes it lazily aside. "Father is upstairs with Mom- he's helping her to eat. We're not sure how she's going to get to the Reaping."

I nod regretfully. If there is one thing that our Peacekeepers are truly vigilant about, it is the population count at the Reaping each year. That, and crimes that are committed against them. But certainly the population count.

"I could send my mom or dad to come help your father to carry her, but I think it might be getting too late for me to run back and then here," I say.

"No, it's no trouble. She can walk, she just needs some support," Cam says quickly. He never wants to trouble anyone. "Want a drink?" He stands and walks to a shelf full of cups, goes to the basin of the family's standing water and fills two cups.

I take my water gratefully, it's not always a given in Six and wealthier families like Cam tend to have unlimited access to the few water pumps scattered around town, whereas my family has to wheedle and deal to fill our basins. Cam is always sure to offer me a drink when I come around.

"Thank you very much," I say, a bit breathless, after finishing the cup of water. Cam is looking a bit amused at how fast I've chugged it, and I put a silly smile on my face, charming a rare laugh out of him.

Then his eyes catch on the clock and the smile drops off his face. "Oh, I'd better tell Father and Mom that it's time to go," he says with a bite of his lip.

I look at the clock guiltily, seeing that it's about 8:40. My family has probably left without me, unfortunately, and I likely won't have time to meet them in the Square. Hopefully I won't be late to check in...

"I'd better get going. Thanks for the water," I say to Cam, and stand up.

"Anytime," he replied good-naturedly. "Do you want to come round for dinner tonight?"

I stick out my tongue in disappointment. "No, I'd better not. My family likes to eat special meals on Reaping days. Maybe some other time, though." With that, I go ahead and leave, not wanting to be too late.

I rush into the Square and through the crowd, knowing that by now it could be 8:45. By the time I push through to the Peacekeeper, it is nearly 9, and it is clear to see that I am the last girl in the District to enter. He takes my blood quickly, and as I run down the aisle, the sounds of my shoes echo through the quieting Square. I can feel the whole crowd's attention on me, their eyes burning my skin.

A very tall, thin escort is standing at the microphone. I vaguely remember her from my younger years, but she must have taken a few years off, because the last few years a very small woman was our escort. The woman standing at the microphone is dressed entirely in mint-green, right down to her clearly dyed hair and unnatural lip color. She smiles thinly at the crowd.

"Welcome to this year's Reapings, District Six. I am Minty, our tributes' escort for the rest of the Games. Please welcome your mayor for the reading of the Treaty of Treason!" the escort says, and she backs away from the microphone, clapping two bony hands. A smattering of applause follows as our mayor steps forward to read the Treaty of Treason.

When the mayor steps back, Minty stands again, and does that weird thin smile again. "Thank you, District Six. The Reaping ball, please."

As is the custom in our District, the mayor holds the Reaping ball as the first name is chosen. Minty digs through the ball for just a second too long before pulling out a name.

She opens the piece of paper with some hesitation and into the microphone, says "Acadia Marano."

I sigh in relief that the first tribute isn't me, then turn to stare at the girl coming up the stage. She looks almost average- She has a slight tan and gray eyes, but her hair is black. She seems to be as tall as me, and as she steps up onto the stage and looks out on the crowd, tears start streaming silently down her cheeks. However, she seems determined not to react too visibly.

Minty nods to Acadia, then puts her hand back into the ball. I brace myself.

She pulls out a name, and then reads, "Lilac Sum."

No. This cannot be happening, I stare at the bricks beneath my feet, trying to take deep breaths to calm down, but my breathing just gets faster and harder and I feel myself hyperventilating. I clutch at my chest, my heart seems to be pounding, and I try to walk towards the stage, still not willing to look up, and the crowd parts around me as I move. It takes me just a few minutes too long to make it up, and when I finally manage to drag my eyes above ground level, Minty has her lips pressed together impatiently. I finish hurrying up the stairs to stand next to Acadia.

Minty turns to the crowd, and my eyes are drawn to the sea of faces in front of me. I drop my gaze to the floor immediately. I have never been very good at talking to big groups of people- forget about standing in front of the entirety of District Six. I feel my heart start pounding again as I think about all the eyes on me.

Minty must have told us to shake hands because Acadia is looking at me expectantly, arm lifted, and I blush hard before taking it and letting her give me a handshake. I can't help wondering, as I look at this older girl who I'm stuck with for the next week or so, whether she will be the one to stab me, in the end.

It's then, as the Peacekeepers are beginning to usher us away, that it occurs to me. I left the house this morning early, and didn't come back. I didn't even see my father in the morning. I feel repulsive. And I can't stop thinking about it as I am placed into a room and sit down on the long velvet couch.

Within a few minutes, Cam and his parents come into the room. I can hardly restrain myself from jumping up and hugging Cam tight, but his parents are standing right there, and they are not very touchy people.

Mr. Scapula stands close to me and gives me a somber look. "You were a wonderful apprentice. I'm very glad that I took up your mother's requests that I train you. It has been a pleasure to teach you."

I nod, my eyes welling with tears. The two adults hang close to me for a second, trying to say comforting things, and finally, Mr. Scapula presses a long chocolate bar into my hands. I gasp, but before I can thank him, he exits with his wife, leaving only Cam in the room.

I look at the candy in my hands and am stunned to see that it is a Capitol-brand manufactured chocolate. Even for a family that lives a comfortable life like the Scapulas, this candy could support them for months. I don't know how or where Mr. Scapula obtained this, but it's a treasure that he has chosen to instead pass on to me.

I glance up at Cam, who is waiting patiently with a small smile. "The Peacekeeper gave it to him this morning when he couldn't pay his entire bill," Cam explains.

I nod, set the candy down, and without hesitation fall into Cam's open arms.

He's not much bigger than me, not having quite hit puberty yet, but Cam's arms are still comforting, and I find myself pressing my face into his shoulder, not wanting to look out on a world where I've been Reaped. He pats my back a little awkwardly, and I stand back.

"Sorry," I whisper. "It's overwhelming."

Cam's face flushes slightly, and he says, "No- don't be sorry. It's okay, I was just- surprised. Are you okay?"

I have to shake my head. How could I be? "I just want to go back home, fall asleep, and pretend this whole morning didn't happen," I say. I sit back onto the couch and tuck a stray hair behind my ear.

Cam walks closer and kneels in front of me so I have to look at him. "I know it's awful. But.. you don't have to... die. You could win."

I feel my chest tighten with a flare of rage. "How? I'll be killed by Careers in seconds," I snap, and then I feel like a fool. "Sorry. I'm really... stressed."

"You don't have to apologize for being upset. I'm sorry for saying that," Cam says, his eyes cast to the ground. I hug him again, around his shoulders, looser this time.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," I say in a raw voice while his head is tucked on my shoulder.

"I know," Cam says. "But I'm going to be right with you the whole way."

Out of everything he's said, and everything that his parents said, that makes me feel the most better about this situation for a few short seconds. Then it hits me again that I'm going to die and I have to fight back tears for a second.

I let Cam go, let him stand up. He hesitates for a moment, looking like he wants to say more to me, and a feeling of sharp regret fills me, because if I hadn't been chosen we would have had years of friendship ahead of us, we could have told each other a million more things.

But all that Cam says is, "Goodbye, Lilac," and then he disappears out the door, and I have a terrible feeling I'll never see him again.

I lean back on the couch but barely for an instant before my entire family comes in and stands before me. My father and mother are standing close together, and both of them have already cried, I can tell. One of my father's hands rests on Otto's shoulder, and Otto himself is looking shocked, staring at the floor. Kial is on my mother's hip, and looks terribly confused- oh, my poor brother.

I sit on the couch for just a moment more before standing and going into their arms. My entire family hugs me, and my parents both start crying again, but I can't seem to make myself cry even though I feel awful, and my lack of tears makes me feel even worse.

"Why is everyone so sad? What's happening?" Kial demands, but I don't have the heart to explain to him about the Games. He'll certainly learn over the coming weeks. So instead, I hug him tightly to me.

After I let go of Kial, my mother hands him over to my father and digs through her deep pockets. She is wearing her work uniform, which is the nicest dress she owns.

Out of one pocket comes a photograph of my family that was taken when I was as young as Kial and Otto was just a newborn. Mom brought it to the Reaping last year, as well- it's the only photo that's ever been taken of the whole Sum family, and her plan was to bring it every year just in case.

She doesn't need to say anything special. I just take the photo and hold it tight in my hand.

My father starts wringing his hands, saying, "You're a good daughter, Lilac. A good girl." and at the words my mother clutches at herself and moans, the tears starting again.

"I might make it," I say in a strained voice.

My parents look at each other, and Otto gives me a suspicious look. "Yes. Of course you might," my mother whispers in response.

We have nothing more to say, so I stand in silence with my family until the Peacekeepers poke their heads in and say my time for visitation is over. I hug my family one last time, and sit on the couch as they leave, staring at the ground, feeling numb.

I _am_ a good girl, just as my father said. A good daughter, a good person. I've never tried to hurt someone before..

so why was I picked for the Games?

What on Earth did I do to deserve to die?

 **A/N: Lilac's character is just so deliciously simple. I think she's going to be a real treat in these Games.**

 **Up next, Acadia Marano. There was not nearly as much 'meat' in her submission profile, but let me just say, after planning out each girl's character arc, Acadia's is one of the ones I'm most excited about.**

 **Happy days, and, as usual, thanks for reading.**

 **-Phannie**


	16. D6: Acadia Marano

**A/N: A few worldbuilding things about Six that'll clarify this chapter and the last a bit: the District is spread out so widely into tiny little towns that it is subdivided into sectors. Some sectors don't have to go to the Reapings, by random choice, because the population is so large. Each sector also has a Managing Peacekeeper. Every high school aged student in the District (Acadia and Jaxon, for example, but not yet Lilac and Cam) goes to the same high school in the central sector, which the citizens call the central hub and which also contains the Justice Building and the Head Peacekeeper. If a student lives in the center hub (like Lilac and Cam do) they won't have to board at the school, just go during the day, which is how apprenticeships like Lilac's are possible in the center hub.**

 **Also, there's a _hella_ water shortage due to sudden population growth. **

**Kudos to Acadia's creator! She may not quite look it yet, but she's going to be a lot of fun in the Games.**

 _Acadia Marano, 16, D6_

The sun hits my eyes as I reach the crest of the hill and I have to put my hand above them in that stupid salute-y pose to shield them from the dangerous rays. I take the last few steps to the well and put my back to the rising sun as I attach our bucket to the long rope.

The guard dog, chained to a small tree, belonging to the local Managing Peacekeeper, is sleeping. Good for us, too, because we're technically far over our limit for water this month. We'd normally have to bribe the Managing Peacekeeper in some way to get this much, but since I've been coming up early in the morning, no one has noticed.

I brush my long black hair out of my face and try to work fast, lowering the bucket quickly without dropping the rope or making noise. If the dog wakes up I'll be caught 'stealing' and the whole family will have to answer to Peacekeeper Bedford.

He's beaten me before. I don't want to face that again.

When the bucket has returned to the top I snatch it with both hands and start to return down the hill to my family's home. Though Peacekeeper Bedford and a few businesses like the bakery, the motel, and the butcher are located on the other side off the well hill, my family joins most of the rest in our part of six in living in a shack near to the train station. From the top of the hill, I can see our house clearly- It's only four rooms, and scattered over the rest of our small property are edible vegetables, laundry fluttering in the wind, a compost box, and an outhouse.

I'm still in my nightgown, which is rippling as well with the strong breeze coming down the hill. No shoes, or underwear either. Just the nightgown.

I start to jog down the hill, because if I get home before anyone else wakes up I can wash my hair for the Reaping. Then I pause, because I've spotted something- it's a birch tree. The light, almost white bark is peeling off of the tree in spades. A perfect substitute for paper. The thought of washing my hair vanishes from my mind. I grab handfuls of the bark and stuff it in my pockets, before continuing my way down the hill.

When I reach my home I gently open and close the creaky gate so I don't make a sound and sneak past the wide window to pour the bucket into the widest basin. The water doesn't fill so much as half of it. I sigh, and take a smaller bucket to wash with.

In another, small basin, I pour in a much smaller quantity of water and some soap. Soap is much easier to come by than water, but perfectly useless if you can't access the well. I get to work working through my hair with my fingers, quickly, so I have time to dress before the Reaping. As I'm about halfway through rinsing the soap out of my hair, I hear a voice behind me.

"You're up early." It's Jaxon. My adopted brother, and my best friend. I glance up at him and can't help but let one side of my mouth quirk up in a smile.

Jaxon is.. well, he's pretty. Really pretty. End of story. He has dark, coppery red hair, and cloudy-gray eyes like most of the rest of the District. He's tall for his age, almost taller than me, and solid. His shoulders are broad, and there's a little dimple in his chin. A few pale freckles are lightly dusted across his face like stars.

I know it's not really right for me to have a crush on the guy who's legally my brother, but.. damn.

"I just wanted to get water before Brutus woke up," I said, referring to the dog at the top of the hill. I stand up quickly. Jaxon isn't wearing pajamas, but instead the usual dress in Six: dark, simple pants and shirt, work boots, a jacket with a collar, and work gloves. I frown. "Aren't you dressing up for the Reaping?"

Jaxon shrugs. "Does it matter? There's no way I'll go up on stage, and for all the Peacekeepers know, these are the best clothes I own."

I roll my eyes at him. "I think you're just a troublemaker. Do you need this soapy water? I'm going to go inside and get changed."

"Thanks. Mom made you breakfast," he adds after me as I start to walk away.

I head inside, sure that my face must be burning. I walk straight past the table in the main room, where my parents are waiting, and into my room.

The room is almost barren, because nearly everything I own is stuffed into a suitcase that sits on the bed. If the Reapings go well, Jaxon and I will be dropped off at school for the rest of the semester in the central hub of Six. If they don't, it won't matter too much.

I dig through the stacks of clothes in the suitcase and happen upon my usual dark pants, very similar to those Jaxon was wearing, and a formal hand-knit white sweater that was an adoption gift to me from Mom.

My hair's still wet, but when it dries, it'll be back to being bouncy and wavy. Even though black is probably the second most common hair color in Six, my hair still gets me weird looks from the people around town.

I head back out into the main room. "Good morning!" I say sweetly to my parents.

Mom looks me up and down. "You're wearing casual pants, too? What's with you kids?" she teases.

"I thought the sweater made it formal," I say, and I take my place at the table. Mom pushes a plate with beans and vegetables towards me and I gratefully pick up my fork and start eating. We only have twenty-odd minutes to catch the train, along with the rest of our town, to the center hub for the Reaping.

"If the Reaping goes well, we'll get you and Jaxon a sandwich to split for lunch," Dad says warmly over the top of his newspaper.

I almost choke on my beans. "A- a traditional sandwich?"

Jaxon comes in and closes the wire door behind him with a creak. "What's this about traditional sandwiches?" I glance at him and my heart almost leaps out of my chest. His hair is even darker when it's wet and lying flat across his forehead, and little droplets of water have gathered at the bottom of his chin, nose, ears.

"We can split one after the Reaping!" I almost crow. It's not usual for me to show my emotions very much around anyone other than Jaxon, including my parents, but I'm so excited I could burst.

"Wow!" Jaxon says, and he sits at his place across from me. He beams right at me, and I quirk my mouth up in a returning smile.

We all eat our meals very quickly, and I go into Jaxon's room with him to help him throw all his things into a suitcase last minute. We get a week off in the fall semester for the Reapings, and a week off in the spring semester for the Victory Tour, and both times, every year since he's been in high school, Jaxon unpacks his things completely and then throws everything into his suitcase minutes before we have to leave. I don't really unpack at all during these weeks, just letting my suitcase sit on my bed or chair instead.

When the suitcase is finished, we go outside to where Mom and Dad are waiting, watch them lock up the house, and then trot down the hill as a family towards the station.

Everyone in town has gathered there for the 7:30 train to the center hub. We'll arrive at 8:30, just enough time to check in before the Reapings start at nine. I have to say, I feel sorry for the poor towns slotted to arrive at 8:40, the last time slot for Reaping Day.

Our town takes the last car, everyone stuffing in together to fit. The Peacekeepers sit at the front, as they do every year, and me and Jaxon stuff up into the loft.

To pass the time, I take some scraps of paper and charcoal that I've gathered out of my pants, and start to draw the dog I saw earlier. Jaxon gazes at the paper in abject wonder. "I wish I could draw like you do," he says, shaking his head and smiling.

"You can, it just takes practice," I frown. "If you listened when I tried to teach you-"

"No, I'm just not good at it," he says, rolling over on his back to look at the ceiling, an easy smile cracking his face. "It's okay, you're the artist here."

"Come on, Jaxon. Give me your hand," I say. He doesn't move. "Cooommme onnnnnnn," I complain, grabbing his hand and trying to roll him back over. He doesn't move, and doesn't bother hiding his smile either. I can't help but grin right back at him. "Roll over! I really want to show you."

"Fine," he says. He rolls back onto his elbows and watches as I flip the paper over.

"You can draw a face, I know you can," I say. "Show me."

"I thought we were finished with drawing lessons." Jaxon glances up at me for a second, and my heart catches as our eyes meet. Man. He's too pretty sometimes.

"No, we're not. I know you can do it. Show me how to draw a face," I say.

Jaxon is quiet, then he takes the paper and sketches a face that's grinning wide, eyes closed, wavy black hair bouncing down around its face. "It's you!" he laughed.

"Yeah, but I don't have a nose," I say.

Jaxon squints at the paper, then rubs in a tiny nose. "It's hard to work when the paper's this small," he says.

I sigh. "Someday maybe we'll be able to afford real paper. Then I can teach you how to actually draw," I say.

"We?" Jaxon says, and he glances up at me. I swallow.

"Well, yeah. We're still gonna be best friends when we're adults, right? We can buy the paper together," I say, and I giggle. Then I realize how stupid that was- I never normally giggle, and Jaxon would know my real laugh from my fake girly giggle any day.

But he doesn't say a word. "Yeah, of course," Jaxon says. He rests his head on his arms and watches my hand as I flip the scrap of paper back to my dog drawing and start working to finish it.

I can tell that his eyes are following my hands as I draw, and it makes me a little nervous, but my hands stay steady. Sometimes I wonder if he feels the same way about me as I do about him. We weren't raised together- our parents only adopted me when I was twelve, after Jaxon and I had already been friends. It wouldn't be weird.

Jaxon settles down to take a nap on his back as I continue to finish the drawing. I doodle a few more things, like a butterfly and a tree, but I can't concentrate. Soon, I lay down my head to nap next to him.

When I wake, the bells are clanging, the ones that signal our arrival, and parents from all over our town are calling into the loft to tell their children it's time to come out. Without checking to see if Jaxon is behind me, I slide out of the loft and join our parents. Jaxon joins us again a second later.

"Ready?" he says grimly.

"Oh, come on. It's not like I'm going to be picked," I say. Our parents have started walking without us, so I jog for a moment to catch back up.

"Acadia is right. The odds are in our family's favor," my dad says. He smiles wide and his small eyes crinkle with genuine contentment- he's never had a close family member reaped before, which is probably why he isn't so worried by the Reapings as the rest of us.

Mom stays silent. Her best friend's oldest brother was reaped once.

Jaxon keeps the mood light as we walk towards the city square in the center hub, cracking jokes about the people who live here and occasionally breaking into a funny-looking run. Still, we have to move fast, so there's not a lot of time for chatting.

Luckily, I'm right in the middle of the group of girls who arrived on the 8:30 train. I turn around to my family. "I'll see you later. Meet at the Justice Building doors, right?"

"Yes, and from there we'll get you two a fine sandwich," my dad says. Jaxon shoots me an easy smile meant to reassure my nerves, and my family disappears into the crowd.

I get into the shortest-looking line and it's not too long before my thumb is pricked, my age is entered, and I am registered for the Reaping. I take my place in the sixteens section. In a District as large as Six, the Reaping grounds take up the entire square and spill into the surrounding streets. Many people, after checking in, watch from the roofs or even the insides of the businesses lining the square. And one lucky sector of the District, chosen randomly each year, are at home watching safe and sound from their TVs, exempt from the Reapings.

I assume in the smallest Districts Reapings must be some sort of a social event, or something, because you would know everyone in your age group. But here, I'm surrounded by completely unfamiliar strangers.

I start to daydream about being able to draw again when I get back to school and am provided with real pieces of paper, even if they're lined for notes and not made for drawing. But as I'm getting lost in the daydream, the crowd starts to turn, and I move along with it by instinct.

It's nearly nine, so what is a little thirteen-year-old doing checking in so late? She thanks the last remaining Peacekeeper profusely, then runs down the center of the city square. The entirety of District Six is in silence at her audacity, and her shoes echo off the buildings.

As the little girl takes her place in the thirteens section, the clock hits nine. The escort, who has been standing patiently in her heels at the microphone since I arrived, offers the crowd a false smile. All of her clothes are a pastel green-blue color. Like toothpaste, but a little more green. She clears her throat very quietly, scans the crowd, and begins the ceremony.

"Welcome to this year's Reapings, District Six. I am Minty, our tributes' escort for the rest of the Games. Please welcome your mayor for the reading of the Treaty of Treason!" She steps away from the microphone and claps her almost-skeletal hands, a smattering of applause from the nervous crowd following. The mayor steps forward and begins their reading.

When the mayor steps back, Minty reappears once more and delivers another fake smile. "Thank you, District Six. The Reaping ball, please."

As usual, the mayor holds the Reaping ball as the tribute is chosen. Minty digs so long that my heart rate starts to increase.

 _There's thousands of girls up for grabs here. The odds are well in your favor,_ I remind myself, clenching my fists, even though I don't need to.

Finally, Minty chooses a name, and her lips seem to move in slow motion as she reads the slip.

"Acadia Marano."

My heart catches in my chest, but I start walking towards the stage on instinct, like this was something I was born to do. Was this really what I survived that painful childbirth, all those years in the community home, all those Peacekeeper beatings for?

To die as tribute to an unmerciful Capitol?

As I step up on stage, a string of curse words are falling through my head, but none through my mouth. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, but I can't feel them. I take the final steps up the stage to join the escort, and look out on my District. I can't see my family anywhere.

"Lilac Sum."

A little girl stumbles out of the crowd, and I start as I realize it was the girl who was late. This thirteen-year-old is my partner? At least it's not like I'm forced to ally with her. She seems to drag her feet up the stairs, a tiny breathless sob wracking her body occasionally. When she looks up at Minty, the sense seems to be knocked back into her, and she rushes the rest of the way up to join me.

"District Six, welcome your tributes for the Hundredth Hunger Games!" Minty says, and she turns back to us, aiming a pointed look at my arm. Catching the hint, I raise my arm and look at Lilac expectantly.

It takes her a moment to glance up at me, and when she does she doesn't comprehend for a moment. Finally she blushes hard and holds her arm up to me, and I shake it halfheartedly. My mind isn't on my District partner.

When they take us to the Justice Building, I know that Jaxon and our parents will be the only ones to come see me.

I slump back against the provided couch, feeling anguish to the ends of my fingers. For someone who has survived so much, to die so young, and for no real reason- isn't it stupid?

After twenty minutes or so, my family bursts in and scoops me into a group hug, Jaxon squished tight against me.

When my parents finally let us breathe again, my mom hands me a wrapped item that looks like it must be a sandwich. "Since you aren't going back to school," she says.

"Thanks, but... this looks like a whole," I say, puzzled. I turn the wrapped sandwich over in my hand, looking at the spots where grease has leaked through the cloth wrapper.

"I wanted you to have my half. You're a little more important, right now," Jaxon says, and I look at him and he has a very halfhearted smile on his face, and I throw my arms around him. For a second, nothing is more important than him.

"You guys don't have much time," I say. "Because it took so long for you to get through the crowds."

Nobody says anything, because there's not a lot to say. We sit in a circle, our parents on the ground, Jaxon on the couch right next to me, and we stare at each other.

When the Peacekeepers come in, my parents hug me again, but their faces look numb. They're in shock. I think I must be in shock, too.

Jaxon gives me an easygoing smile as the Peacekeeper taps her foot behind him. "Hey, you might come home, right? You have a chance to see me again," he says. And I can't help but quirk up one end of my mouth in a hopeful smile because his cheer is just so infectious.

As my family is escorted out, I relax against the couch and stare at the ceiling.

After surviving a difficult birth, the community home, and Peacekeeper beatings, I can't die young in the Games.

I can't. I've survived so much. It's not fair.

I'm going to survive. I have to.

 **A/N: Acadia Marano knows what's up. (Except with her brother... yikes.)**

 **We're officially halfway through the Reapings! Someone throw a party! I'm going to have to start thinking about the formats for the rest of the Games...**

 **And for District Seven. Sabina is going to be an easier character to write, but I'm not sure exactly where her story is going. Lindie is going to be much more difficult to write, but I know exactly where she needs to go and what she needs to do. So I'm not sure who to start with. Any of y'all have a preference?**

 **Let me know, and, as usual, thanks for reading.**

 **-Phannie**


End file.
